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ARTS  AND  CRAFTS 
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CHAPTERS  IN  THE  HISTORY  OF 
THE  ARTS  AND  CRAFTS 
MOVEMENT 


COPYRIGHT  1902— THE  BOHEMIA  GUILD  OF  THE  INDUSTRIAL  ART 


iGUE 


HAPTERS  IN 


THE  HISTORY 
OF  THE  m 
ARTS  AND  CRAFTS 
MOVEMENT- 


By  Oscar  Lovell  Triggs-THD- 


_ Tublished  By 
we  Bohemia  Guild  of  the 
Industrial  Art  League 

CHICAGO  'MDCCCCn 


COPYRIGHT,  1903 
BY 

THE  BOHEMIA  GUILD  OF  THE  INDUSTRIAL 
ART  LEAGUE 


Dedicated  to 
'MargueriteWarrenSpringer 
for  her  devotion  torn  cause 
of  Industrial  Art. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  Carlyle's  Relationship  to  the  New  In- 
dustrialism   i 

II.  Ruskin’s  Contribution  to  the  Doctrine 

of  Work n 

Twentieth-Century  Economy  - - 25 

The  Omitted  Elements  in  Political  Economy  28 

III.  Morris  and  his  Plea  for  an  Industrial 

Commonwealth  -----  59 

Statement  of  Principles  of  the  Hammersmith 
Socialist  Society  - - - - - 129 

IV.  Ashbee  and  the  Reconstructed  Workshop  142 

V.  Rookwood:  An  Ideal  Workshop  - - 157 

VI.  The  Development  of  Industrial  Con- 
sciousness   162 


Appendix  I.  A Proposal  for  a Guild  and 

School  of  Handicraft  - - - - 189 

Appendix  II.  The  Industrial  Art  League  - 195 


CHAPTERS  IN  THE  HISTORY 


OF  THE 

ARTS  AND  CRAFTS  MOVEMENT. 


The  primary  motive  of  the  arts  and  crafts 
movement  is,  as  the  name  implies,  the  association 
of  art  and  labor.  Initially  an  English  movement, 
it  has  been  slowly  emerging  from  the  general  in- 
dustrial field  for  about  forty  years,  though  its 
differentiation  into  a distinct  phase  of  industrialism 
belongs  to  the  last  ten  years.  I count  i860  as  the 
approximate  year  of  its  beginning,  when  William 
Morris  built  his  famous  Red  House  on  the  out- 
skirts of  London,  and  served  his  apprenticeship 
to  the  industrial  arts  by  designing  and  executing 
the  decoration  and  furniture  of  his  home.  On  its 
theoretical  side  the  movement  is,  of  course,  much 
older  than  forty  years,  its  development  as  an  idea 
being  measured  by  the  lives  of  Carlyle,  Ruskin, 
and  Morris. 

/.  Carlyle  s Relationship  to  the  New 
Industrialism . 

Carlyle's  relationship  to  the  new  industrialism, 
as  I will  call  it,  is  remote,  and  in  his  own  mind 


2 


The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

quite  unconscious.  But  Carlyle  was  never  any- 
thing more  than  a voice  crying  out  in  an  age  of 
transition ; an  age  whose  tendencies  he  did  not 
understand,  and  could  not,  therefore,  in  any  way 
direct ; an  age  about  which  he  knew  but  one  cer- 
tainty, namely,  that  its  conditions  were  subject  to 
change.  He  wrote  as  early  as  1 83 1 : cc  The  doom 
of  the  Old  has  been  pronounced  and  irrevocable ; 
the  Old  has  passed  away;  but  alas,  the  New  ap- 
pears not  in  its  stead  ; the  Time  is  still  in  pangs  of 
travail  with  the  New.”  And  later,  when  the  New 
had  appeared  with  some  definiteness,  he  wrote  of 
the  age  in  satire:  “ You  perceive,  my  friends,  we 
have  actually  got  into  the  cNew  Era'  there  has 
been  such  prophesyings  of ; here  we  are,  arrived 
at  last ; and  it  is  by  no  means  the  land  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey  we  were  led  to  expect.” 
However,  there  was  one  thing  that  Carlyle  per- 
ceived clearly:  that  the  new  era  was  industrial, 
that  the  organization  of  labor  was  the  universal 
vital  problem  of  the  world ; and  that  the  imme- 
diate function  of  labor,  by  whatever  means  of 
steam  and  machinery,  was  to  subdue  the  earth 
and  make  it  man’s.  Having  named  the  ideal 
heroes  of  the  past — the  hero  as  prophet,  poet, 
soldier,  statesman — and  knowing  that  these  would 
not  serve  the  present,  he  summoned  at  length  a 


3 


Carlyle  s Relationship . 

new  ideal,  the  industrial  hero,  whose  work  was 
“ to  civilize  out  of  its  utter  savagery  the  world  of 
Industry.”  He  called  for  an  industrial  Cromwell 
or  Frederick,  of  strong  hand  and  iron  will  and 
strict  conscience,  who  should  lay  his  might  upon 
the  chaos,  and  rule  it  into  order  and  harmony. 
“ Look  around  you,”  he  said  to  the  leaders  of 
industry  he  had  evoked,  “your  world-hosts  are 
all  in  mutiny,  in  confusion,  destitution ; on  the 
eve  of  fiery  wreck  and  madness  ! Ye  shall  reduce 
them  to  order,  begin  reducing  them.  All  human 
interest,  combining  human  endeavors,  and  social 
growths  in  this  world,  have,  at  a certain  stage  of 
their  development,  required  organization ; and 
Work,  the  grandest  of  human  interests,  does  now 
require  it.”  In  his  view  such  leaders  would  con- 
stitute a new  aristocracy — an  aristocracy  denoted 
by  something  other  than  fine  manners  and  accom- 
panied by  something  else  than  fine  arts,  an 
aristocracy  rude,  doubtless,  and  inartistic  in  the 
old  sense  of  art,  but  from  the  new  point  of  view 
finely  cultured  and  artists  in  deed.  “ Art,”  he 
once  said,  referring  to  the  fine  arts,  “ is  very  fine 
and  ornamental,  but  only  to  persons  sitting  at 
their  ease.”  To  the  arts  of  the  leisure  classes 
Carlyle  never  refers  except  with  scorn.  He  had 
short  patience  with  the  art  of  a nobility,  who  were 


4 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

only  concerned  about  their  game  preserves,  and 
wrote  in  his  bitterest  mood  of  satire  a description 
of  the  modern  opera  and  its  devotees.  Yet  his 
world  was  not  devoid  of  beauty : far  from  it. 
<c  Manchester,  with  its  cotton  fuzz,  its  smoke  and 
dust,  its  tumult  and  contentious  squalor,  is  hide- 
ous to  thee  ? I think  not  so : a precious  substance, 
beautiful  as  magic  dreams,  and  yet  no  dream,  but 
a reality,  lies  hidden  in  that  noisome  wrappage — 
a wrappage  struggling  to  cast  itself  off,  and  leave 
the  beauty  free  and  visible  there  ! Hast  thou 
heard,  with  sound  ears,  the  awakening  of  a Man- 
chester, on  Monday  morning,  at  half-past  five  by 
the  clock ; the  rushing  off  of  its  thousand  mills, 
like  the  boom  of  an  Atlantic  tide,  ten  thousand 
spools  and  spindles  all  set  humming  there — it  is 
perhaps,  if  thou  knew  it  well,  sublime  as  a Niagara, 
or  more  so.  Cotton-spinning  is  the  clothing  of 
the  naked  in  its  result ; the  triumph  of  man  over 
matter  in  its  means.  Soot  and  despair  are  not 
the  essence  of  it : they  are  divisible  from  it.  The 
great  Goethe,  looking  at  cotton  Switzerland,  de- 
clared it  to  be  of  all  things  that  he  had  seen  in 
this  world  the  most  poetical.” 

Carlyle  then  had  certain  notions  respecting  the 
meaning  of  the  industrial  world.  These  mean- 
ings bring  us  very  close  to  his  central  doctrine 


Carlyle  s Relationship . 5 

of  Duty,  in  which  word  all  of  constructive 
thought  he  had  to  offer  is  summed  up.  Duty,  as 
a vague  term  of  obligation,  finds  its  application 
in  three  secondary  doctrines:  those  of  Work, 
Silence,  and  Sincerity. 

Work  is  the  first  and  chief  duty  of  man.  In 
its  simplest  form,  the  doctrine  of  work  stands  on 
Carlyle’s  pages  thus:  “It  is  the  first  of  all  prob- 
lems for  a man  to  find  out  what  kind  of  work  he 
is  able  to  do  in  this  universe”;  or  in  negative 
statement:  “One  monster  there  is  in  this  world, 
the  idle  man.”  “For  work,”  he  explains,  “is 
the  grand  cure  of  all  the  maladies  and  miseries 
that  ever  beset  mankind — honest  work  which 
you  intend  getting  done.”  In  shorter  phrase: 
“Labor  is  Life.”  Again  he  would  assert:  “Work 
is  alone  noble.”  In  a deeper  sense  work  appears 
to  be  the  mission  of  man  on  the  earth.  “A  day 
is  ever  struggling  forward,”  he  wrote  in  his  essay 
on  Chartism,  “a  day  will  arrive  in  some  approximate 
degree  when  he  who  has  no  work  to  do,  by  what- 
ever name  he  may  be  named,  will  not  find  it  good 
to  show  himself  in  our  quarter  of  the  Solar  System; 
but  may  go  and  look  elsewhere — if  there  be  any 
Idle  Planet  discoverable.  Let  the  honest  work- 
ing-man rejoice  that  such  law,  the  first  of  Nature, 
has  been  made  good  on  him;  and  hope  that  by 


6 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

and  by  all  else  will  be  made  good.  It  is  the 
beginning  of  all.”  And  so  in  “Past  and  Present” 
he  said:  “Whatsoever  of  morality  and  of  intel- 
ligence; what  of  patience,  perseverence,  faithful- 
ness of  method,  insight,  ingenuity,  energy:  in  a 
word,  whatsoever  of  Strength  the  man  had  in  him 
will  lie  written  in  the  Work  he  does.”  “He  that 
can  work,”  he  explains  further,  “ is  a born  king 
of  something;  is  in  communion  with  Nature,  is 
master  of  a thing  or  things,  is  a priest  and  king 
of  Nature  so  far.”  Thus  understood,  work  is  its 
own  reward,  and  becomes  perverted  the  moment 
it  demands  a wage,  and  falls  under  bondage  to 
Mammon.  “The  wages  of  every  noble  Work,” 
Carlyle  said,  “do  yet  lie  in  Heaven,  or  else  No- 
where. Not  in  Bank-of-England  bills,  in  Owen's 
Labor  bank,  or  any  of  the  most  improved  estab- 
lishment of  banking  and  money-changing,  needest 
thou,  heroic  soul,  present  thy  account  of  earn- 
ings.” The  brave  man  has  to  give  his  life  away, 
and  for  his  all  “God's  entire  creation”  is  given  in 
return.  So  Carlyle  quotes  with  approval  the  words 
of  the  old  monks : Labor  are  est  Orare. 

Closely  connected  with  the  doctrine  of  work  is 
his  principle  of  silence.  “Silence,  withal,  is  the 
eternal  duty  of  a man.”  In  silence  thoughts  shape 
themselves  and  emerge  in  action.  “Silence  is  the 


Carlyle  s Relationship . 7 

element  in  which  great  things  fashion  themselves 
together,  that  at  length  they  may  emerge,  full- 
formed  and  majestic,  into  the  daylight  of  Life, 
which  they  are  henceforth  to  rule.”  On  this 
ground  Carlyle  had  much  to  say  on  the  topic  of 
education.  The  schools  about  him  had  been  en- 
gaged for  generations  with  abstractions,  artificial- 
ities, manners,  and  the  usage  of  words.  But 
from  Wilhelm  Meister  he  derived  the  notion  of 
“ mute-education” — an  education,  that  is,  of  the 
deed,  and  not  of  the  word;  or,  as  he  describes  it, 
“a  training  in  practicality  at  every  turn.”  “The 
grand  result  of  schooling  is  a mind  with  just  vision 
to  discern,  with  free  force  to  do;  the  grand  School- 
master is  Practice.”  In  his  paper  on  “Corn- Law 
Rhymes  ” he  explained  more  elaborately  his  edu- 
cation of  silence:  “He  that  has  done  nothing 
has  known  nothing.  Vain  is  it  to  sit  scheming 
and  plausibly  discoursing;  up  and  be  doing!  If 
thy  knowledge  be  real,  put  it  forth  from  thee; 
grapple  with  real  Nature;  try  thy  theories  there, 
and  see  how  they  hold  out.  Do  one  thing;  for 
the  first  time  in  thy  life  do  a thing;  a new  light 
will  rise  to  thee  on  the  doing  of  all  things  what- 
soever. Truly,  a boundless  significance  lies  in 
work,  whereby  the  humblest  craftsman  comes  to 
attain  much  which  is  of  indispensable  use,  but 


8 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

which  he  who  is  of  no  craft,  were  he  never  so  high, 
runs  the  risk  of  missing.”  The  contrast  between 
theory  and  practice  is  drawn  still  further  in  “Past 
and  Present”:  “How  one  loves  to  see  the  burly 
figure  of  him,  this  thick-skinned,  seemingly 
opaque,  perhaps  sulky,  almost  stupid  Man  of 
Practice,  pitted  against  some  light,  adroit  Man  of 
Theory,  all  equipt  with  clear  logic,  and  able  any- 
where to  give  you  Why  for  Wherefore!  The  adroit 
Man  of  Theory,  so  light  of  movement,  clear  of 
utterance,  with  his  bow  full-bent  and  quiver  full 
of  arrow-arguments — surely  he  will  strike  down 
the  game,  transfix  everywhere  the  heart  of  the 
matter,  triumph  everywhere  as  he  proves  that  he 
shall  and  must  do?  To  your  astonishment,  it 
turns  out  oftenest  No.  The  cloudy-browed,  thick- 
soled,  opaque  Practicality,  with  no  logic  utterance, 
silence  mainly,  with  here  and  there  a low  grunt 
or  growl,  has  in  him  what  transcends  all  logic 
utterance:  a Congruity  with  the  Unuttered.  The 
Speakable,  which  lies  atop,  as  a superficial  film,  or 
outer  skin,  is  his  or  is  not  his ; but  the  Doable, 
which  reaches  down  to  the  World’s  center,  you 
find  him  there.”  There  is  much  that  is  transcen- 
dental in  all  this — a philosophy  gone  quite  gen- 
erally out  of  fashion,  but  it  is  a transcendentalism 


9 


Carlyle' s Relationship . 

that  pertains  to  the  deed  rather  than  the  word, 
and  so  links  itself  with  some  of  the  most  vital 
tendencies  in  modern  life.  Literary  education  is 
fast  passing  from  the  schools.  Labor,  we  agree, 
must  become  “a  seeing,  rational  giant,  with  a soul 
in  the  body  of  him,  and  take  his  place  on  the 
throne  of  things/’ 

In  sincerity,  the  third  of  these  principles,  Car- 
lyle’s economic  doctrine  is  embodied.  The  test 
of  manhood  is  its  truth ; how  to  attain  truth  in 
all  things  and  be  true  at  all  places  and  times  is  the 
great  human  problem,  the  great  industrial  problem 
no  less.  “Cheap  and  nasty” — with  these  words 
Carlyle  characterized  most  of  the  manufactured 
goods  of  his  day,  tainted  as  they  were  with  the 
spirit  of  Mammon.  Against  the  ideal  of  cheap- 
ness he  placed  that  of  fitness.  “No  good  man  did, 
or  ever  should,  encourage  cheapness  at  the  ruin- 
ous expense  of  unfitness,  which  is  always  infidelity, 
and  is  dishonorable  to  a man.  If  I want  an  arti- 
cle, let  it  be  genuine,  at  whatever  price ; if  the 
price  is  too  high  for  me,  I will  go  without  it, 
unequipped  with  it  for  the  present — I shall  not 
have  equipped  myself  with  hypocrisy,  at  any  rate. 
This,  if  you  will  reflect,  is  primarily  the  rule  of 
all  purchasing  and  all  producing  men.  They  are 


i o The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

not  permitted  to  encourage,  patronize,  or  in  any 
form  countenance  the  working,  weaving,  or  acting 
of  Hypocrisy  in  this  world.” 

In  the  mere  statement  of  these  three  principles, 
without  any  very  definite  suggestions  as  to  their 
application,  Carlyle,  it  is  true,  did  not  stimulate 
much  actual  doing.  The  practical  man  of  his  day 
cried  out  to  him : <c  Descend  from  speculation 
and  the  safe  pulpit  down  into  the  rough  market- 
place, and  say  what  can  be  done.”  But  Carlyle 
answered  : It  is  first  of  all  necessary  to  gird  up 

thyself  for  actual  doing — once  rightly  girded  up 
many  things  present  themselves  as  doable.”  Car- 
lyle’s function  was  to  arouse  to  action,  at  least  to 
stimulate  thought  on  social  questions.  His  own 
life— as  he  observed  of  Schiller — was  emphatically 
a literary  one  ; he  was  primarily  a recorder,  a biog- 
rapher, and  historian.  As  a man  of  letters  he  had  the 
supreme  faculty  of  vision,  and  was  able  to  discern 
the  inmost  facts  of  a scene,  an  event,  or  of  a life ; 
and,  more  than  all,  he  had  the  gift  of  the  word,  the 
genius  for  vivid  description.  It  is  the  pathos  of 
the  literary  life  to  write  volumes  upon  work  and 
to  remain  inactive,  to  write  other  volumes  upon 
silence  and  never  be  silent  one’s  self.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  the  literary  man  can  even  be  sincere,  for 
not  having  experienced  life  he  must  be  haunted  by 


Ruskins  Contribution . 1 1 

doubts  and  self-questionings.  Carlyle’s  literary 
faculty  was  his  undoing  as  a sociologist ; for  he 
was  wont  to  prophesy  without  data  in  experience. 
And  lacking  clairvoyancy,  unable  to  see  any  other 
outcome  for  a society  rapidly  democratizing  save 
anarchy  and  chaos,  he  was  prevented  from  utter- 
ing the  creative  word  that  might  have  inaugurated 
a new  epoch.  Mistaken  in  nearly  all  points  relat- 
ing to  political  democracy,  he  was  always  right  in 
discussing  questions  of  industry,  and  his  dream  of 
<c  some  chivalry  of  labor  ” is  even  now  being  real- 
ized— the  complete  democratizing  of  labor,  which 
Carlyle  actually  feared,  being  reserved  for  a dis- 
tant future. 

II.  Ruskins  Contribution  to  the  Doctrine  of 

Work. 

Carlyle’s  mission  as  a futurist  was  to  arouse 
thought  on  current  social  questions.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  any  genuine  word,  even  though  it  be  but  a 
word,  can  ever  be  lost.  And  Carlyle’s  word  fell 
upon  the  ear  of  a young  man,  then  idling  in  Italy 
and  Switzerland,  and  employing  an  astonishing 
literary  skill  in  describing  objects  of  nature  and 
art — but  presently  to  become  something  quite 
other  than  a literary  dilettante,  something  more 
even  than  Carlyle;  namely,  a socialist  in  both  word 


1 2 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

and  deed.  The  story  of  John  Ruskin’s  pilgrim- 
age, his  passage  from  naturalism  to  artistic  inter- 
ests, and  thence  to  socialism,  is  one  of  the  most 
significant  life  histories  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  impress  left  upon  the  mind,  after  a review  of 
all  of  Ruskin’s  writings  in  the  order  of  publication, 
is  of  an  amazingly  vital,  versatile,  generally  con- 
sistent, and — to  quote  Carlyle  on  Goethe — “pano- 
ramic” intelligence.  There  is  practically  no  sub- 
ject of  human  interest  that  he  did  not  discuss,  and 
there  is  no  discussion  that  is  not  in  some  degree 
illuminative.  His  works  constitute  a kind  of  syn- 
thetic philosophy,  with  almost  the  scope,  though 
not  with  the  manner,  of  Spencer  and  Fiske.  He 
reminds  one  also  of  those  great  mediaeval  scholars 
who  took  all  knowledge  for  their  province,  and 
preferred  to  synthesize  knowledge  rather  than 
specialize  in  narrow  fields.  We  forget  that  Dante 
was  a scholar  and  desired  to  be  known  for  his 
learning,  and  not  for  his  poetry,  and  it  seems  im- 
possible for  the  world  to  understand  that  Ruskin 
was  not  primarily  an  artist  or  an  art  critic,  but  a 
sociologist,  who  simply  examined  the  phenomena 
of  art,  the  most  intimate  and  essentially  human 
of  all  modes  of  expression,  that  he  might  the 
better  determine  the  economy  of  life.  Art  was 
the  chief,  but  by  no  means  the  only,  field 


Ruskins  Contribution. 


J3 

wherefrom  he  gathered  data  for  the  understanding 
of  life.  The  social  motive  was  undoubtedly  the 
central  and  controlling  impulse  in  all  he  did ; yet 
so  great  was  his  mental  energy,  the  simple  neces- 
sity of  self-expression,  that  his  work  might  fairly 
be  said  to  have  been  without  special  motive,  pro- 
duced as  spontaneously  and  naturally  as  flowers 
and  fruit  in  the  physical  world.  An  abundant 
life-energy  is  turned  now  upon  this  subject  and 
now  upon  that,  wreaking  itself  also  upon  style — - 
the  mere  manner  of  saying  things,  in  which  he 
always  took  supreme  delight.  Rhetorically  he 
was  the  master  of  many  styles : the  direct,  instruc- 
tive, persuasive,  invective,  suggestive,  and  flam- 
boyant. Showing  the  influence  of  Hooker  and 
Johnson  and  Carlyle  upon  him,  he  could  on 
occasion  outpreach  Hooker,  overcrowd  John- 
son, and  outscold  Carlyle.  But  manner  does 
not  measure  him : he  led  as  laborious  a life  an  any 
the  busy  nineteenth  century  can  show.  In  a 
humorous  letter  addressed  to  Mrs.  Carlyle,  a 
transcript  of  his  occupations  is  made  for  a portion 
of  1855,  one  of  his  climacteric  years;  the  letter 
proceeds : cc  I have  written,  since  May,  good 

six  hundred  pages,  had  these  rewritten,  cut  up, 
corrected,  and  got  fairly  ready  for  the  press.  . 
Also  I have  prepared  above  thirty  drawings  for 


14  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

engravers  this  year,  retouching  the  engravings 
(generally  the  most  part  of  the  business),  and 
etched  some  on  steel  myself.  In  the  course  of 
the  six  hundred  pages  I have  had  to  make  various 
remarks  on  German  metaphysics,  on  poetry, 
political  economy,  cookery,  music,  geology,  dress, 
agriculture,  horticulture,  and  navigation ; all  of 
which  subjects  I have  had  to ‘read  up’  accord- 
ingly, and  this  takes  time.  Morever  I have  had 
my  class  of  workmen  out  sketching  every  week  in 
the  fields  during  the  summer;  and  have  been 
studying  Spanish  proverbs  with  my  father's  part- 
ner, who  came  over  from  Spain  to  see  the  great 
Exhibition.  I have  also  designed  and  drawn  a 
window  for  the  museum  at  Oxford;  and  have 
every  now  and  then  had  to  look  over  a parcel  of 
five  or  six  new  designs  for  fronts  and  backs  to 
the  said  museum.  During  my  above-mentioned 
studies  of  horticulture  I became  dissatisfied  with 
the  Linnaean,  Jussieuan,  and  everybody-elseian 
arrangement  of  plants,  and  have  accordingly  ar- 
ranged a system  of  my  own ; and  unbound  my 
botanic  book  and  rebound  it  in  brighter  green, 
with  all  the  pages  throughother  and  backside 
foremost — so  as  to  cut  off  the  old  paging  numer- 
als ; and  am  now  printing  my  new  arrangement 
in  a legible  manner,  on  interleaved  foolscap.  I 


Ruskins  Contribution . 15 

consider  this  arrangement  one  of  my  great  achieve- 
ments of  the  year.  My  studies  of  political 
economy  have  induced  me  to  think  also  that 
nobody  knows  anything  about  that,  and  I am 
engaged  in  an  investigation,  on  independent  prin- 
ciples, of  the  nature  of  money,  rent  and  taxes, 
in  an  abstract  form,  which  sometimes  keeps  me 
awake  all  night.  My  studies  of  German  meta- 
physics have  also  induced  me  to  think  that  the 
Germans  don't  know  anything  about  them ; and  to 
engage  in  a serious  inquiry  into  the  meaning  of 
Bunsen's  great  sentence  in  the  beginning  of  the 
second  volume  of  Hippolytus,  about  the  Finite 
realization  of  Infinity;  which  has  given  me  some 
trouble.  The  course  of  my  studies  of  navigation 
necessitated  my  going  to  Deal  to  look  at  the  Deal 
boats  ; and  those  of  geology  to  rearrange  all  my 
minerals  (and  wash  a good  many,  which,  I am 
sorry  to  say,  I found  wanting  it).  I have  also 
several  pupils,  far  and  near,  in  the  art  of  illumina- 
tion, an  American  young  lady  to  direct  in  the 
study  of  landscape  painting,  and  a Yorkshire 
young  lady  to  direct  in  the  purchase  of  Turners 
— and  various  little  bye  things  besides." 

By  the  side  of  this  letter  may  be  placed  another 
written  twenty  years  later,  telling,  in  a mood  of 
jest  and  earnest,  of  designs  for  which  he  had  been 


1 6 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

collecting  materials  for  fifty  years.  “Of  these 
materials  I have  now  enough  by  me  for  a most 
interesting  (in  my  opinion)  history  of  fifteenth- 
century  Florentine  art,  in  six  octavo  volumes;  an 
analysis  of  the  Attic  art  of  the  fifth  century  B.  C., 
in  three  volumes;  an  exhaustive  history  of  northern 
thirteenth-century  art,  in  ten  volumes;  a life  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  with  analysis  of  modern  epic 
art,  in  seven  volumes ; a life  of  Xenophon,  with 
analysis  of  the  general  principles  of  education,  in 
ten  volumes;  a commentary  on  Hesiod,  with  final 
analysis  of  the  principles  of  political  economy,  in 
nine  volumes;  and  a general  description  of  the 
geology  and  botany  of  the  Alps,  in  twenty-four 
volumes.” 

From  these  recitals  a notion  of  the  prodigality 
of  Ruskin’s  genius  is  gained;  we  notice  the  range 
of  his  attainments,  his  many-sidedness,  his  origi- 
nality, his  dogmatic  and  self-confident  assertive- 
ness, the  impatience  of  his  spirit,  the  oscillation  of 
his  temper,  and  particularly  the  happy  union  of 
thinking  and  doing,  the  harmony  of  the  theoret- 
ical and  practical  faculties.  And  what  is  quite  as 
important  as  any,  we  learn  from  the  letter  of  1855 
of  his  intimacy  with  the  Carlyles,  and  are  prepared 
for  the  dedication  of  “Munera  Pulveris”  in  1863 
to  “ Thomas  Carlyle,  who  has  urged  me  to  all 


ufl ym  i^ruboR  mwi  m-  i 
r. , A»V>R  Vi'T  HcUT  art 


mtjlri}: 


COPYRIGHT  1 902— THE  BOHEMIA  GUILD  OF  THE  INDUSTRIAL  ART  LEAGUE 


\ 


Rusk  in's  Contribution , 1 7 

chief  labor,”  also  for  Ruskin’s  praise  of  Carlyle  in 
“ The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive  ” as  “ the  greatest  of 
historians  since  Tacitus,”  for  the  many  references 
to  his  “master”  elsewhere  in  his  writings,  and  for 
the  occasional  imitation  of  his  manner,  as  the 
scolding  essay  on  the  state  of  England  in  the 
“Ariadne  Florentina”  volume;  prepared  also  for 
Carlyle’s  enthusiastic  reception  of  Ruskin’s  later 
social  treatises,  and  for  his  writing  of  Ruskin  in 
1869:  “The  one  soul  nowin  the  world  who 

seems  to  feel  as  I do  in  the  highest  matters.” 
Knowing  Ruskin’s  relationship  with  Carlyle,  we 
can  understand  more  clearly  the  sociological  bear- 
ings of  his  teachings.  Then,  furthermore,  without 
going  farther  than  the  letter  of  1855,  we  may 
assume  it  likely  that  Ruskin’s  published  volumes 
will  not  contain  any  compact  and  systematized 
body  of  instruction,  but  rather  the  easy  discourse 
of  a large  but  irregular  intelligence,  somewhat 
willful,  perhaps,  yet  struck  through  with  genius. 

H owever  much  given  to  divagation,  the  general 
unity  of  Ruskin’s  life  history  is  not  difficult  to 
trace.  “ My  life,”  he  declared  himself,  “ has 
chanced  to  be  one  of  gradual  progress  in  the  things 
which  I began  in  childish  choice.”  This  unity  is 
found  in  the  thread  of  his  social  thought.  From 
the  age  of  seven  to  his  twenty-second  year  he 


1 8 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

devoted  much  of  his  energy  quite  seriously  to 
poetry.  Poetry  gave  outlet  to  his  adolescent  en- 
thusiasms., and  verse-making  trained  him  to  the 
use  of  words.  His  first  love  was  for  mountains 
and  seas,  and  it  is  indicative  that  the  nom  de  plume 
he  attached  to  his  early  writings  was  “Kata 
Phusin” — according  to  nature.  But  from  these 
interests  he  early  passed  to  a study  of  painting 
and  architecture,  so  that  the  first  volume  of 
“Modern  Painters”  revealed  an  equal  devotion 
to  nature  and  to  art.  There  was  at  first  no  token 
in  his  writings  of  a social  motive,  though  a protest 
in  “Modern  Painters”  against  the  railroad  as 
signifying  violence,  restlessness,  and  avarice,  might 
have  occasioned  suspicion,  and  still  more  the 
essential  seriousness  with  which  he  wrote.  “Art 
is  no  recreation,”  he  declared;  “it  cannot  be 
learned  at  spare  moments,  nor  pursued  when  we 
have  nothing  better  to  do.  It  is  no  handiwork  for 
drawing-room  tables,  no  relief  for  the  ennui  of 
boudoirs ; it  must  be  understood  and  undertaken 
seriously  or  not  at  all.  To  advance  it  men's  lives 
must  be  given,  and  to  receive  it,  their  hearts.” 
This  surely  is  unusual  language  for  a mere  aesthete 
and  stylist,  and  should  have  made  the  English 
public  pause.  We  see  clearly  now  that  in  all  his 
early  writings  on  nature  and  art  it  was  the  relation 


Ruskins  Contribution.  19 

of  these  to  man  for  which  he  cared.  Professor 
Norton  points  to  the  distinguishing  features  of 
the  first  volume  of  “ Modern  Painters”  in  these 
words:  (1)  “The  display  of  intimate  acquaint- 

ance with  the  aspects  of  nature  and  of  unique 
faculties  of  observation  and  interpretation  of 
them”;  (2)  “Keen  analysis  of  the  principles  and 
methods  of  art”;  (3)  “The  strong  and  devoted 
moral  sentiment  manifest  throughout  it,  which 
read  the  laws  of  nature  and  of  art  by  the  light  of 
virtue.”  Now,  it  was  the  possession  of  this  third 
element,  the  moral,  that  differentiated  Ruskin 
from  other  art  teachers  and  marked  him  thus  early 
for  the  mission  of  social  reform.  He  declared 
himself  that  the  beginning  of  his  political  economy 
is  to  be  found  in  the  assertion  in  “ Modern 
Painters  ” that  beautiful  things  are  useful  to  men 
because  they  are  beautiful,  and  for  the  sake  of 
their  beauty  only,  and  not  to  sell,  or  pawn,  or  in 
any  way  turn  into  money.  We  are  fortunate  also 
to  have  Ruskin’s  own  statement  of  the  purpose  of 
his  art  studies,  following  upon  cc  Modern  Paint- 
ers.” He  told  an  audience  at  Bradford:  “The 
book  I called  ‘The  Seven  Lamps’  was  to  show 
that  certain  right  states  of  temper  and  moral  feel- 
ing were  the  magic  powers  by  which  all  good 
architecture,  without  exception,  had  been  pro- 


20 


The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

duced.  cThe  Stones  of  Venice  * had,  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  no  other  aim  than  to  show  that  the 
Gothic  architecture  of  Venice  had  arisen  out  of, 
and  indicated  in  all  its  features,  a state  of  pure 
national  faith  and  of  domestic  virtue,  and  that  its 
Renaissance  architecture  had  arisen  out  of,  and  in 
all  its  features  indicated,  a state  of  concealed 
national  infidelity  and  of  domestic  corruption.” 
The  recognition  of  the  relations  between  art  and 
national  character  signifies  the  social  bearing  of 
these  volumes.  Concerning  the  <c  Stones  of 
Venice,”  W.  G.  Collingwood  makes  the  following 
comment : “ The  kernel  of  the  work  was  the 

chapter  on  the  nature  of  the  Gothic,  in  which  he 
showed,  more  distinctly  than  in  cThe  Seven 
Lamps/  and  connected  with  a wider  range  of 
thought,  suggested  by  pre-Raphaelitism,  the  great 
doctrine  that  art  cannot  be  produced  except  by 
artists ; that  architecture,  in  so  far  as  it  is  an  art, 
does  not  mean  the  mechanical  execution,  by  unin- 
telligent workmen,  of  vapid  working-drawings 
from  an  architect’s  office;  that,  just  as  Socrates 
postponed  the  day  of  justice  until  philosophers 
should  be  kings,  and  kings  philosophers,  so  Ruskin 
postponed  the  reign  of  art  until  workmen  should  be 
artists,  and  artists  workmen.  . . . Out  of  that  idea 
the  whole  of  his  doctrine  could  be  evolved,  with 


Ruskins  Contribution . 


21 


all  its  safe-guardings  and  widening  vistas.  For  if 
the  workman  must  be  made  an  artist,  he  must 
have  the  experience,  the  feelings,  of  an  artist,  as 
well  as  the  skill;  and  that  involves  every  circum- 
stance of  education  and  opportunity  which  may 
make  for  his  truest  well-being.  And  when  Mr. 
Ruskin  came  to  examine  into  the  subject  prac- 
tically, he  found  that  mere  drawing-schools  and 
charitable  efforts  could  not  make  an  artist  out  of 
a mechanic  or  country  bumpkin;  for  wider  ques- 
tions were  complicated  with  this  of  art — nothing 
short  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  human  in- 
tercourse and  social  economy.  Now  for  the  first 
time,  after  much  sinking  of  trial-shafts,  he  had 
reached  the  true  ore  of  thought,  in  the  deep-lying 
strata;  and  the  working  of  the  mine  was  begun.” 
The  volume  entitled  CCA  Joy  Forever,”  being 
the  substance  of  lectures  delivered  in  1857  on  the 
political  economy  of  art — the  title  is  significant — 
marks  definitely  the  parting  of  the  ways,  and  his 
intention  thereafter  to  speak  out  openly  on  social 
themes.  Upon  this  topic  he  had  an  indisputable 
right  to  be  heard,  since  he  knew  more  about  art 
than  any  political  economist,  and  more  about 
economy  than  any  artist.  After  1857,  practically 
everything  he  wrote,  whether  upon  nature,  as  the 
“ Ethics  of  the  Dust,”  in  1865,  or  uPon  art,  as 


22  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

cc  Val  d'Arno,”  in  1873,  was  conceived  from  the 
social  point  of  view.  He  would  never  admit  that 
any  sentence  upon  a social  topic  written  after  i860 
was  erroneous  in  principle,  and  insisted  in  the  face 
of  the  public  that  was  ever  praising  his  style,  that 
his  volume  called  cc  Unto  This  Last,”  the  purpose 
of  which  was  to  give  a logical  definition  of  wealth 
as  a basis  of  economic  science,  contained  the  “best, 
the  truest,  rightest-worded,  and  most  service- 
able things  ” he  had  written.  Even  during  the 
time  he  was  professor  of  art  at  Oxford  he  was 
publishing  the  monthly  series  of  studies  called 
“ Fors  Clavigera,”  and  forming  the  Company  of 
St.  George. 

In  the  last  volume  of  cc  Fors  Clavigera,”  Rus- 
kin  announced  definitely  the  teachings  of  his  five 
greatest  books:  ccc Modern  Painters' taught  the 
claim  of  all  lower  nature  in  the  hearts  of  men ; of 
the  rock  and  wave  and  herb,  as  a part  of  their 
necessary  spirit  life  ; in  all  that  I now  bid  you 
do,  to  dress  the  earth  and  keep  it,  I am  fulfill- 
ing what  I then  began.  c The  Stones  of  Venice' 
taught  the  laws  of  constructive  art,  and  the  de- 
pendence of  all  human  work  or  edifice,  for  its 
beauty,  on  the  happy  life  of  the  workman.  ‘Unto 
This  Last'  taught  the  laws  of  life  itself,  and  its 
dependence  on  the  Sun  of  Justice;  the  Inaugural 


Ruskins  Contribution . 23 

Oxford  Lectures,  the  necessity  that  it  should  be 
led,  and  the  gracious  laws  of  beauty  and  labor 
recognized  by  the  upper  no  less  than  the  lower 
classes  of  England;  and  lastly,  cFors  Clavigera’ 
has  declared  the  relation  of  these  to  each  other, 
and  the  only  possible  conditions  of  peace  and 
honor,  for  low  and  high,  rich  and  poor  together, 
in  the  holding  of  that  first  Estate,  under  the  only 
Despot,  God,  from  which,  whoso  falls,  angel  or 
man,  is  kept,  not  mythically  nor  disputably,  but 
here  in  visible  horror  of  chains  under  darkness  to 
the  judgment  of  the  great  day;  and  in  keeping 
which  service  in  perfect  freedom,  and  inheritance 
of  all  that  a loving  Creator  can  give  to  His  crea- 
tures, and  an  Immortal  Father  to  His  children.” 
The  essential  seriousness  of  Ruskin’s  thought 
being  recognized,  I do  not  propose  in  this  paper 
to  wound  his  vanity  by  calling  him  a fine  writer, 
which  would  mean  that  nobody  need  mind  what 
he  said  ; indeed,  I am  almost  sure  that  he  was  not 
always  a fine  writer,  and  am  disposed  to  agree  with 
him  in  saying  that  four  lines  of  description  by 
Tennyson  are  worth  as  much  as  many  of  his 
pages,  that  a sentence  of  Carlyle's  contains  more 
than  some  of  his  essays,  and  that  Browning  suc- 
ceeded in  putting  into  a few  poems  all  that  he 
had  striven  to  say  in  as  many  volumes  on  the 


24  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

Renaissance.  His  manner,  in  short,  does  not 
greatly  interest  me,  but  his  thinking  does. 

As  an  economist  Ruskin  inaugurated  three  de- 
partures from  current  teachings,  the  first  relating 
to  general  political  economy,  the  second  to  the 
theory  of  beauty,  and  the  third  to  the  doctrine 
of  work.  His  primary  issue  was  with  the  political 
economy  of  the  time,  and  he  claimed  to  have 
made  the  first  contribution  to  scientific  economy, 
because  he  alone  considered  life  in  its  integrity 
and  wholeness ; that  he  alone  among  economists 
was  acquainted  with  the  value  of  the  products  of 
the  highest  industrialism,  commonly  called  the 
fine  arts,  which  had  hitherto  been  ignored  by  all 
writers  upon  economy.  The  economy  that  con- 
cerned itself  with  merely  objective  wealth,  the 
statistics  of  trade  and  production,  Ruskin  denom- 
inated mercantile  economy — right  in  its  place,  but 
partial  and  unscientific,  since  it  dealt  with  only  a 
phase  of  wealth.  A mercantile  economy  is  an 
economy  of  means — “the  science  of  avarice  ” 
Ruskin  called  it — whereas  political  economy  is  an 
economy  of  essential  life.  The  true  question  is  : 
<c  How  can  society  consciously  order  the  lives  of 
its  members  so  as  to  maintain  the  largest  number 
of  noble  and  happy  human  beings?”  Ruskin’s 
mission  was  on  the  one  hand  to  correct  a system 


Ruskins  Contribution . 25 

that  had  abstracted  an  “ economic  man  ” and  set 
him  to  producing  things,  and  on  the  other  hand 
to  expand  the  area  of  economy  by  including 
activities  that  do  not  lead  directly  to  marketable 
production.  He  is  recognized  by  progressive 
economists  as  having  been  the  first  English 
thinker  to  socialize  economy  in  a strictly  scien- 
tific manner. 

As  I write  this  there  comes  to  my  hand  an 
editorial  in  the  Chicago  Tribune , entitled  “ Twen- 
tieth-Century Economy  it  is  an  admirable 
summary  of  the  modern  situation,  and  will  serve 
to  illustrate  the  better  thinking  of  our  own  day  : 

T wentieth-Century  Economy . 

“In  its  broadest  statement,  the  problem  of  the 
world’s  economy  is  to  develop  and  give  scope  to 
individual  originality,  the  benefits  of  whose  exer- 
cise are  registered  in  individual  character  as  well 
as  in  objective  results. 

“The  English  economist,  Marshall,  however, 
declares  that  one-half  of  the  power  of  human 
initiative  is  suppressed  by  the  present  social  order, 
and  it  is  not  difficult  to  accept  the  statement.  The 
happy  instances  where  individuals  manipulate  cir- 
cumstances so  as  to  bring  out  striking  results  are 
rendered  the  more  conspicuous  by  the  number 


26  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

of  other  individuals  who  entirely  fail  not  only  of 
such  achievement,  but  of  anything  comparable 
thereto.  And  yet  it  is  known  that  these  others 
grade  only  somewhat  below  the  first  in  capacity. 

“Of  all  the  stupendous  waste  exhibited  in  the 
physical  and  moral  world  this  is  perhaps  the  most 
tragic  in  character  and  consequences.  Yet  it  is 
enacted  unobtrusively  and  with  little  dramatic 
effect.  It  is  typified  by  the  circumscribed  career 
of  the  working-class  boy,  who  at  14  years  passes 
from  the  influence  of  the  c graded  ’ system  of 
education  to  * tend  a machine  ’ for  ten  hours  a 
day.  The  lot  of  the  few  who  enjoy  more  elastic 
and  extended  educational  opportunities  and  a 
more  adequate  field  of  action  thereafter  is  more  in 
the  public  eye.  Theirs,  however,  is  not  the  lot 
of  £ the  great  majority. ’ Among  the  latter  there 
is  no  inconsiderable  proportion  whose  power  of 
individual  initiative  is  but  meagerly  developed 
and  whose  potential  contribution  to  the  world’s 
enterprise  is  never  realized. 

“ There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  dominant  aim 
of  the  century  which  has  just  closed  has  been 
commercial  rather  that  humanistic.  It  has  been 
the  century  of  wealth-making.  It  has  launched 
an  entire  series  of  world’s  fairs.  It  has  established 
free  public  schools  and  abolished  slavery,  both  of 


Ruskiri  s Contribution . 27 

which  acts  mean  accelerated  material  development. 
It  has  built  great  cities  with  their  lack  of  art.  It 
has  gone  haltingly  forward  with  its  newly  de- 
manded factory  laws.  It  has  neglected  persons 
as  conscious  objects.  It  has  trusted  for  salvation 
to  the  instinct  of  gain.  It  has — perhaps  with 
some  twinges  of  conscience — assured  all  men  that 
the  current  waste  of  flesh  and  brain  was  inevitable, 
and  that  there  could  be  no  better  way. 

“The  problem  of  this  century  is  to  work  out  that 
higher  economy  in  which  there  shall  not  only  be 
a still  better  directed  effort  to  effect  material  sav- 
ing, but  in  which  the  emphasis  shall  be  shifted 
from  the  material  product  to  the  human  agent — - 
in  which  social  advance  rather  than  the  instinct  of 
profit-making  or  even  of  vast  organization  shall 
more  effectually  dictate  action.  This  does  not 
mean  the  retarding  of  material  progress.  Quite 
the  contrary.  The  better  the  man  the  better  his 
product.  And  a century  whose  conscious  effort 
shall  be  to  make  all  existing  progress  converge 
upon  the  development  of  its  people  and  upon 
insuring  scope  to  their  capacities  will  realize  a 
peculiar  quality  and  profusion  of  productive  ex- 
pression. 

“That  the  spirit  of  a higher  social  economy — a 
spirit  which  is  partially  a revolt  and  partially  an 


28  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

instance  of  constructive  self-assertion — is  moving 
with  great  force  in  Europe  and  America  is  not  to 
be  denied.  It  protests  against  waste  in  militar- 
ism, in  industrial  conflict,  and  especially  in  dwarfed 
capacities.  It  finds  the  trust  when  kept  within 
just  bounds  a labor-saving  device,  but,  without 
abating  its  demands  for  efficiency  in  methods,  its 
chief  thought  is  centered  upon  persons.  It  looks 
for  a twentieth-century  economy  which,  as  one  of 
its  far-sighted  aims,  shall  seek  to  set  free  that  fund 
of  individual  initiative  which  to-day  is  so  often 
sacrificed.” 

An  editorial  in  Unity , of  about  the  same  date 
as  the  preceding  piece,  and  called  “ The  Omitted 
Elements  in  Political  Economy, ” asks  some  per- 
tinent questions  that  sound  familiar  to  the  reader 
of  Ruskin’s  writings. 

The  Omitted  Elements  in  Political  Economy . 

“Political  economy  still  holds  its  place  in  the 
curriculum  of  our  universities,  but  that  it  has 
some  limitations,  felt  if  not  proven,  even  in  academic 
circles,  is  shown  by  the  increasing  use  of  such 
terms  as  ‘social  economics’  and  ‘sociology,’  terms 
which  at  least  include  political  economy  if  they  do 
not  tend  to  supplant  it.  Political  economy  still 
starts  out  with  the  assumption  that  wealth  resolves 


Ruskins  Contribution. 


29 


itself  into  three  elements  and  three  only,  viz., 
wages,  saving,  interest  or  profit.  But  do  these 
represent  all  the  elements  in  wealth,  and  are  there 
no  economic  elements  in  capital  other  than  saving 
and  the  higher  skill  of  management?  Did  the 
man  who  had  the  foresight  to  run  the  railroad 
into  the  undeveloped  country  create  the  wealth 
of  which  he  received  so  large  a share  ? Are  there 
not  other  elements  of  wealth  which  not  only  the 
moralist  but  the  economist  must  take  note  of,  and 
which  are  somehow  legitimate  factors  in  the  con- 
siderations of  the  law  of  the  land  as  well  as  the 
law  of  God  ? The  railroad  did  not  create  but  was 
created  by  the  general  intelligence  of  the  commu- 
nity, more  than  that  by  the  general  advancement 
of  science,  the  triumphs  of  invention,  the  progress 
of  the  race,  the  bounty  of  nature  which  no  man 
created.  Is  the  discovery  of  an  unexpected  force 
or  resource  in  nature  sufficient  title  to  private 
ownership  of  that  force  or  resource  ? Can  the 
coal-beds  of  the  world  legitimately  pass  into  the 
hands  of  the  most  sagacious  manipulator  of  sur- 
face titles  ? Can  the  Standard  Oil  Company  by 
any  manipulation  of  capital,  legitimate  or  other- 
wise, claim  first  title  to  all  the  petroleum  or  natural 
gas  that  their  man-made  deeds  may  seem  to  cover  ? 
Does  the  skill  that  succeeds  in  harnessing  the 


30  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

Niagara  give  to  the  man  or  men  thus  harnessing, 
private  rights  for  all  time  to  this  the  greatest  of 
nature's  c water  powers'  ? And  then  do  the  wages 
fixed  by  the  law  of  competition  meet  all  the  legal 
and  economic  obligations  of  the  more  competent 
to  the  less  competent  ? 

“Must  economics,  in  order  to  be  scientific,  as- 
sume only  egoistic  elements  as  calculable,  perma- 
nent,and  conclusive?  Is  there  no  place  for  altruistic 
forces  in  the  political  economy  that  is  scientific  ? 
Must  the  golden  rule,  the  principle  of  noblesse 
oblige , the  law  that  increases  moral  responsibility 
with  the  increase  of  power  be  always  outside  forces 
seeking  to  ameliorate  the  otherwise  grim  and  iron 
elements  of  political  economy  ? Is  there  no  reality 
that  answers  for  the  unearned  increment  which  the 
science  of  political  economy  must  take  note  of,  and 
will  there  never  be  any  scientific  recognition  of 
the  principle  that  establishes  the  wage  element  in 
production  not  by  the  laws  of  competition  but  by 
the  laws  of  a living  wage,  that  fair  proportion  of 
the  profits  that  will  not  represent  the  grim  mini- 
mum of  life  but  a plus  element  to  this  minimum 
that  will  make  for  the  elevation  of  the  workman, 
the  increasing  of  his  joy  in  life  ? Is  the  success 
of  the  successful  man  who  gets  to  the  top  by  virtue 
of  expert  selfishness,  the  suppression  of  altruism 


Ruskin  s Contribution . 31 

in  his  nature,  a success  which  political  economy 
has  no  remedy  for,  which  it  must  respect  and  has 
nothing  to  do  about  except  to  turn  the  mean  man 
over  into  the  hands  of  the  evangelist  after  it  has 
sanctioned  his  methods,  and  say,  c He  has  made 
his  money  legitimately;  now  let  the  minister  of 
religion  teach  him  how  to  spend  it'? 

“We  do  not  presume  to  answer  any  of  these 
questions,  but  we  believe  we  have  named  some  of 
the  disturbing  elements  in  the  discussion  of  the 
class-room  as  well  as  in  the  adjustment  of  the  in- 
dustrial problems  of  to-day.  These  are  questions 
to  which  we  believe  science  and  the  scientific  man 
will  somehow  find  an  answer  that  will  be  satisfac- 
tory to  the  moralist  as  well  as  to  the  financier; 
in  short,  political  economy  will  eventually  be 
based  on  the  golden  and  not  the  iron  rule.” 

Such  thinking  Ruskin  anticipated  by  fifty  years. 
Let  some  of  his  pregnant  sentences  be  noted  and 
their  significance  be  reflected  upon.  “ There  is 
no  wealth  but  life,  including  all  its  powers  of  love, 
of  joy,  and  of  admiration.”  “The  wealth  of 
nations,  as  of  men,  consists  in  substance  not  in 
ciphers ; and  the  real  good  of  all  work,  and  of  all 
commerce,  depends  on  the  final  intrinsic  worth 
of  the  things  you  make,  or  get  by  it.”  “ That 
country  is  the  richest  which  nourishes  the  greatest 


32  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

number  of  noble  and  happy  human  beings  ; that 
man  is  richest  who,  having  perfected  the  functions 
to  the  utmost,  has  also  the  widest  helpful  influence, 
both  personal  and  by  means  of  his  possessions, 
over  the  lives  of  others.”  “A  noble  thing  cannot 
be  wealth  except  to  a noble  person.”  cc  The 
essential  work  of  the  political  economist  is  to  de- 
termine what  are  in  reality  useful  or  life-giving 
things  and  by  what  degree  and  kinds  of  labor 
they  are  attainable  and  distributable.”  Having 
determined  upon  this  idea  of  wealth  all  other  defi- 
nitions of  economy  were  tested  by  their  truth  to 
human  life  or  by  their  “ vitality.”  The  true  end 
of  work  consists  in  making  “ wealth  ” and  not  in 
earning  profits.  cc  Value  ” is  the  life-giving  power 
of  anything.  “Production”  does  not  consist  in 
things  laboriously  made,  but  in  things  serviceably 
consumable  ; and  the  question  for  the  nation  is 
not  how  much  labor  it  employs,  but  how  much 
life  it  produces.  “ Getting  a living  ” is  getting 
“admiration,  hope,  and  love” — as  Wordsworth 
affirmed.  “ Labor  ” is  spending  of  life,  the  contest 
of  man  with  an  opposite.  “ Cost”  is  the  quantity 
of  labor  required  to  produce  anything.  <c  Price  ” 
is  the  quantity  of  labor  which  the  possessor  will 
take  in  exchange  for  it.  “ Wages  ” should  be  de- 
termined by  what  is  necessary  to  sustain  life  at 


Ruskins  Contribution . 33 

its  fullest  and  best,  allowing  for  recreation  and 
rest. 

There  are  three  tests  of  “work”  : it  must  be 
honest,  useful,  and  cheerful.  His  general  social 
view  is  well  summarized  in  a passage  taken  from 
the  inaugural  lecture  at  Oxford  : “It  has  been 
too  long  boasted  as  the  pride  of  England  that  out 
of  a vast  multitude  of  men,  confessed  to  be  in 
evil  case,  it  was  possible  for  individuals,  by  strenu- 
ous effort  and  rare  good  fortune,  occasionally  to 
emerge  into  the  light,  and  look  back  with  self- 
gratulatory  scorn  upon  the  occupations  of  the 
parents,  and  the  circumstances  of  their  infancy. 
Ought  we  not  rather  to  aim  at  an  ideal  of  national 
life,  when,  of  the  employments  of  Englishmen, 
though  each  shall  be  distinct,  none  shall  be  un- 
happy or  ignoble;  when  mechanical  operations, 
acknowledged  to  be  debasing  in  their  tendency, 
shall  be  deputed  to  less  fortunate  and  more  covet- 
ous races;  when  advance  from  rank  to  rank, 
though  possible  to  all  men,  may  be  shunned 
rather  than  desired  by  the  best ; and  the  chief 
object  in  the  mind  of  every  citizen  may  not  be 
extrication  from  a condition  admitted  to  be  dis- 
graceful, but  fulfilment  of  a duty  which  shall  be 
also  a birthright.” 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  follow  Ruskin 


34  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

through  the  details  of  his  system  or  to  debate  the 
advisability  of  the  measures  he  proposed  to  effect 
a better  social  order.  It  will  be  remembered  he 
advised  the  fullest  regulation  of  society  and 
division  into  classes  according  to  function — kings, 
judges,  administrative  officers,  bishops,  soldiers, 
teachers,  and  workers.  He  was  as  strongly  op- 
posed to  democracy  as  Carlyle  and  always  used 
the  word  “ independence  ” with  contempt,  saying: 
“ The  true  strength  of  every  human  soul  is  to  be 
dependent  on  as  many  nobler  as  it  can  discern, 
and  to  be  depended  upon,  by  as  many  inferior  as 
it  can  reach.”  Hence  he  desired  to  see  all  chil- 
dren taught  obedience  and  all  persons  entering 
into  life  the  power  of  unselfish  admiration.  Like 
Carlyle  he  believed  in  leadership  and  kingship, 
but  kingship  of  “an  inevitable  and  eternal  kind, 
crowned  or  not;  the  kingship,  namely, which  con- 
sists in  a stronger  moral  state,  and  a truer  thought- 
ful state,  than  that  of  others.”  He  advocated 
warfare,  but  a warfare  that  was  hardly  more  than 
pleasant  jousting  with  shield  and  lance  for  the 
development  of  hardihood.  It  must  be  confessed 
that  in  respect  to  government  Ruskin  seems  to 
incline  to  the  mediaeval  view  of  governance  rather 
than  to  the  modern,  but  perhaps,  after  all,  there 
would  not  be  much  disagreement  as  to  his  state- 


Ruskin  s Contribution . 35 

ment  in  the  last  volume  of  cc  Modern  Painters”  : 
“ Government  and  co-operation  are  in  all  things 
the  laws  of  life ; anarchy  and  competition  the 
laws  of  death.”  The  state  he  contemplated  was 
not  a political  or  an  industrial  one,  but  more  like 
Plato’s  republic,  a moral  organism  with  justice  as 
its  essential  life. 

Ruskin’s  divergence  from  the  economical  teach- 
ing of  his  day  was  not  wider  than  his  difference 
from  contemporary  aesthetic.  The  term  aesthetic 
had  been  first  used  by  Baumgarten  in  the 
eighteenth  century  to  designate  the  science  of  the 
beautiful,  meaning  by  the  term  that  the  beautiful 
made  its  primary  appeal  to  sensation,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  good  and  true,  where  perception 
was  interior.  In  making  beauty  “the  perfection 
of  sensuous  knowledge,”  the  field  of  aesthetic  was 
demarked  plainly  from  that  of  logic  and  ethic. 
These  distinctions  prevailed  in  philosophy  up  to 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  with  the 
result  of  fashioning  a school  of  art  that  laid  stress 
only  upon  sense  effects,  and,  advocating  “ art  for 
art’s  sake,”  had  so  far  withdrawn  from  life  that 
art  had  become  merely  a means  of  amusing  and 
entertaining  the  upper  and  leisure  classes.  Against 
this  aesthetic  Ruskin  set  his  face,  affirming  that 
the  impressions  of  beauty  were  not  of  sense,  or 


36  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

wholly  of  mind,  but  more  essentially  moral  or 
social.  The  test  he  applied  to  art  was  its  degree 
of  social  usefulness.  He  would  never  even  use 
the  term  cc  aesthetic’"  except  to  refute  its  implica- 
tions. The  art  of  any  country  is  seen  to  be  an 
exact  exponent  of  its  ethical  life:  “ You  can  have 
noble  art  only  from  noble  persons.”  When  writ- 
ing the  “Stones  of  Venice,”  he  examined  each 
structure  with  reference  to  its  capacity  for  fulfilling 
expressional  purposes.  In  his  more  technical  lec- 
tures on  art  at  Oxford  it  was  noticed  that  he 
touched  constantly  upon  the  problems  of  life.  His 
exposition  of  the  art  of  engraving,  for  instance, 
was,  as  Mr.  Norton  observed,  not  more  a treatise 
on  line  in  art  than  on  line  in  conduct.  His  char- 
acterization of  the  art  of  engraving,  in  the  course 
of  these  lectures,  is  quite  typical  of  his  attitude : 
“ It  is  athletic;  it  is  resolute;  it  is  obedient.”  In 
“Aratra  Pentilici,”  speaking  of  sculpture,  he  said : 
“Its  proper  subject  is  the  spiritual  power  seen  in 
the  form  of  any  living  thing,  and  so  represented 
as  to  give  evidence  that  the  sculptor  has  loved  the 
good  of  it  and  hated  the  evil.”  The  laws  which 
he  deduced  for  sculpture  are  wholly  untechnical : 

(1)  That  the  work  is  to  be  with  tools  of  men. 

(2)  That  it  is  to  be  in  natural  materials.  (3)  That 
it  is  to  exhibit  the  virtues  of  those  materials,  and 


Ruskins  Contribution . 


37 

aim  at  no  quality  inconsistent  with  them. 
(4)  That  its  temper  is  to  be  quiet  and  gentle,  in 
harmony  with  common  needs,  and  in  consent  to 
common  intelligence.  From  such  discussion  the 
definition  is  soon  reached  that  art  is  expression. 

As  art,  then,  is  not  an  entity  distinguished  by 
a quality  called  beauty,  but  a mode  of  expression, 
allied  to  all  other  forms  of  expression,  and  so 
marked  by  characteristics  that  may  be  termed 
moral  or  social,  it  follows  that  the  chief  test 
of  art  is  its  inclusiveness,  its  lowly  origin,  its 
universality,  its  serviceability,  its  degree  of 
satisfying  genuine  social  needs.  The  general 
proposition  underlying  <c  Modern  Painters,” 
“ Stones  of  Venice,”  and  his  other  art  studies  is 
this : C£  Great  art  is  nothing  else  than  the  type 

of  strong  and  noble  life.”  A sense  for  the  noble 
in  life  is  something  quite  different  from  the  cc  taste 
for  beauty”  developed  by  the  opposite  aesthetic. 
The  false  sense  for  art  is  known  by  its  refinement, 
its  fastidiousness,  its  preciosity;  purity  of  taste 
is  tested  by  its  universality.  Hence  Ruskin  told 
his  students  to  beware  of  the  spirit  of  choice,  say- 
ing, <c  It  is  an  insolent  spirit,  and  commonly  a 
base  and  blind  one,  too.”  He  told  them  also 
that  the  main  business  of  art  was  its  service  in  the 
actual  uses  of  daily  life,  and  that  the  beginning 


38  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

of  art  was  in  getting  the  country  clean  and  the 
people  beautiful.  He  pointed  then  to  the  fact 
that  all  good  architecture  rose  out  of  domestic 
work,  that  before  great  churches  and  palaces  could 
be  built  it  was  necessary  to  build  good  doors  and 
garret  windows.  The  best  architecture  was  simply 
a glorified  roof.  His  own  statement  runs:  “The 
dome  of  the  Vatican,  the  porches  of  Rheims  or 
Chartres,  the  vaults  and  arches  of  their  aisles,  the 
canopy  of  the  tomb,  and  the  spire  of  the  belfry 
are  art  forms  resulting  from  the  mere  require- 
ment that  a certain  space  should  be  strongly  cov- 
ered from  heat  and  rain.”  In  the  “ Crown  of 
Wild  Olive  ” we  meet  the  startling  statement  that 
the  builders  of  the  great  mediaeval  cathedrals  cor- 
rupted Gothic  architecture — they  corrupted  it  by 
forgetting  the  people  and  devoting  it  to  priestly 
and  aesthetic  needs,  until,  losing  its  vitality,  it  de- 
clined in  expressiveness  and  ultimately  ceased  to 
be.  From  these  and  other  instances,  Ruskin 
deplored  the  tendency  of  art  to  narrow  its  appeal 
and  to  become  the  object  of  the  educated  classes. 
However  attractive  much  of  the  art  of  the  Renais- 
sance was  to  him,  he  yet  saw  that  it  had  for  foun- 
dation nothing  but  the  pride  of  life — the  pride  of 
the  so-called  superior  classes.  His  strongest  state- 
ment on  this  point  occurs  in  cc  The  Two  Paths  ” : 


Ruskin  s Contribution . 


39 

“ The  great  lesson  of  history  is,  that  all  the  fine 
arts  hitherto,  having  been  supported  by  the  selfish 
power  of  the  noblesse , and  never  having  extended 
their  range  to  the  comfort  or  the  relief  of  the  mass 
of  the  people — the  arts,  I say,  thus  practiced,  and 
thus  matured,  have  only  accelerated  the  ruin  of 
the  states  they  adorned  ; and  at  the  moment  when, 
in  any  kingdom,  you  point  to  the  triumph  of  its 
greatest  artists,  you  point  also  to  the  determined 
hour  of  the  kingdom’s  decline.  The  names  of 
great  painters  are  like  passing  bells  : in  the  name 
of  Velasquez,  you  hear  sounded  the  fall  of  Spain; 
in  the  name  of  Leonardo,  that  of  Milan;  in  the 
name  of  Raphael,  that  of  Rome.  And  there  is 
profound  justice  in  this ; for  in  proportion  to  the 
nobleness  of  the  power  is  the  guilt  of  its  use  for 
purposes  vain  or  vile ; and  hitherto  the  greater 
the  art  the  more  surely  has  it  been  used,  and  used 
solely,  for  the  decoration  of  pride  or  the  provok- 
ing of  sensuality.  We  may  abandon  the  hope — or 
if  you  like  the  words  better — we  may  disdain  the 
temptation  of  the  pomp  and  grace  of  Italy  in  her 
youth.  For  us  there  can  be  no  more  the  throne 
of  marble,  for  us  no  more  the  vault  of  gold ; but 
for  us  there  is  the  loftier  and  lovelier  privilege  of 
bringing  the  power  and  charm  of  art  within  the 
reach  of  the  humble  and  the  poor ; and  as  the 


40  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

magnificence  of  past  ages  failed  by  its  narrowness 
and  its  pride,  ours  may  prevail  and  continue  by 
its  universality  and  its  lowliness.”  The  beauty 
which  is  to  be  “a  joy  forever”  must  be  a joy 
for  all. 

The  ground  is  now  cleared  for  understanding 
Ruskin’s  teachings  respecting  industry.  He  had 
proclaimed  that  art  must  spring  from  the  people, 
that  its  test  was  its  lowliness  and  its  universality. 
He  now  reversed  the  proposition,  and  announced 
the  necessity  of  ennobling  the  people  through 
association  with  art — an  association  to  be  attained 
by  means  of  their  labor.  The  separation  that 
had  occurred  between  the  artist  and  the  artisan 
had  worked  injury  to  both  kinds  of  products. 
The  artists  had  become  effeminate  because  they 
were  not  used  to  handle  rough  materials ; work- 
men had  become  debased  because  they  could  not 
exercise  their  faculties  in  designing.  The  problem 
was  to  universalize  art  and  to  ennoble  labor.  With 
those  sentimentalists  who  upheld  the  essential 
dignity  of  labor  Ruskin  had  little  sympathy. 
Whether  labor  was  dignified  or  not  depended 
upon  its  character ; whether  rough  and  exhaust- 
ing or  with  elements  of  recreation ; whether  done 
under  conditions  of  slavery  or  freedom.  Some 
work  is  degrading  by  its  physical  conditions; 


Ruskin' s Contribution . 


4i 


other  work  is  dangerous  to  health ; still  other  work 
destroys  moral  character.  Labor  can  be  dignified 
only  as  it  has  the  character  of  dignity.  In  the 
Seven  Lamps  it  is  written  that  cc  objects  are  noble 
or  ignoble  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  the 
energy  of  that  mind  which  has  visibly  been  em- 
ployed upon  them.”  But  fullness  of  life  involves  a 
large  degree  of  freedom.  The  sight  of  a degraded 
workman  caused  Ruskin  the  deepest  gloom,  while 
that  of  a free  workman  aroused  his  highest  enthu- 
siasm. He  observed  and  commended  in  the  free 
workman  the  hand’s  muscular  firmness  and  sub- 
tilty,  the  brain’s  instantaneously  selective  and  ordi- 
nant  energy,  the  will’s  unceasing  governance,  and 
the  whole  being’s  joyful  play  and  exertion — a joy 
such  as  the  eagle  seems  to  take  in  the  wave  of  his 
wings.  His  defense  of  Gothic  architecture  as 
against  the  Greek  is  based  upon  the  nature  of  the 
Gothic  as  involving  the  liberty  of  the  workman 
in  its  design  and  execution,  and  he  went  so  far  as 
to  assert  that,  in  order  to  raise  up  the  workman 
of  the  present  day  into  a living  soul,  the  whole 
system  of  Greek  architecture  as  now  practiced — 
the  system,  that  is,  of  ordered  and  deindividual- 
ized  work- — must  be  annihilated.  To  produce  a 
free  workman  education  and  science  should  strive 
— for  surely  these  are  made  for  man  and  not  man 


42  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

for  them.  The  modern  industrial  problem  is  to 
decrease  the  number  of  employments  involving 
degradation,  and  to  raise  the  character  of  others 
by  allowing  the  utmost  possible  freedom  to  the 
workmen. 

Another  fundamental  proposition  in  Ruskin’s 
theory  of  industry  is  that  all  good  work  must  be 
free  hand-work.  Probably  Ruskin  would  admit 
to  himself  that  his  antagonism  to  the  machine 
was  too  extreme ; but  to  cry  out  against  the  ma- 
chine is  one  way  of  insisting  upon  the  value  of 
human  life.  If  the  machine  was  always  employed 
in  the  service  of  man,  to  relieve  him  of  drudgery 
and  of  all  work  debasing  in  its  nature,  if  it  always 
did  work  for  him,  and  produce  the  things  he 
needed,  little  could  be  said  against  it.  But  in  the 
service  of  mammon  and  greed,  compelling  men 
to  be  its  slave  and  lackey,  it  is  anything  but  a 
lovely  spectacle,  and  to  Ruskin’s  eyes  it  appeared 
in  the  guise  of  a monster  and  not  of  a minister. 
And  there  is  this  to  be  said,  that  as  soon  as  the 
principles  of  art  are  applied  to  industry  the  ma- 
chine ceases  to  have  much  importance,  and  we 
can  agree  with  the  twenty-fifth  aphorism  of  the 
Seven  Lamps,  that  “All  good  work  must  be  free 
hand-work.”  In  fuller  statement  this  aphorism 
runs  as  follows : “ I said,  early  in  this  essay,  that 


Ruskins  Contribution . 43 

hand-work  might  always  be  known  from  machine- 
work  ; observing,  however,  at  the  same  time,  that 
it  was  possible  for  men  to  turn  their  lives  into  ma- 
chines, and  to  reduce  their  labor  to  the  machine 
level ; but  so  long  as  men  work  as  men,  putting 
their  heart  into  what  they  do,  and  doing  their 
best,  it  matters  not  how  bad  workmen  they  may 
be,  there  will  be  that  in  the  handling  which  is 
above  all  price ; it  will  be  plainly  seen  that  some 
places  have  been  delighted  in  more  than  others— 
that  there  have  been  a pause  and  a care  about 
them ; and  then  there  will  come  careless  bits,  and 
fast  bits ; and  here  the  chisel  will  have  struck 
hard,  and  here  lightly,  and  anon  timidly ; and  if 
the  man’s  mind  as  well  as  his  heart  went  with  the 
work,  all  this  will  be  in  the  right  places,  and  each 
part  will  set  off  the  other;  and  the  effect  of  the 
whole,  as  compared  with  the  same  design  cut  by 
a machine  or  a lifeless  hand,  will  be  like  that 
of  poetry  well  read  and  deeply  felt  to  that  of 
the  same  verses  jangled  by  rote.  There  are 
many  to  whom  the  difference  is  imperceptible; 
but  to  those  who  love  poetry  it  is  everything — 
they  had  rather  not  hear  it  at  all  than  hear  it  ill 
read ; and  to  those  who  love  architecture,  the  life 
and  accent  of  the  hand  are  everything.  They 
had  rather  not  have  ornament  at  all  than  see  it  ill 


44  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

cut  — deadly  cut,  that  is.  I cannot  too  often 
repeat  it,  it  is  not  coarse  cutting,  it  is  not  blunt 
cutting,  that  is  necessarily  bad ; but  it  is  cold  cut- 
ting— the  look  of  equal  trouble  everywhere — the 
smooth,  diffused  tranquillity  of  heartless  pains— 
the  regularity  of  a plough  in  a level  field.  The 
chill  is  more  likely,  indeed,  to  show  itself  in 
finished  work  than  in  any  other — men  cool  and 
tire  as  they  complete;  and  if  completeness  is 
thought  to  be  vested  in  polish,  and  to  be  attain- 
able by  help  of  sand-paper,  we  may  as  well  give 
the  work  to  the  engine  lathe  at  once.  But  right 
finish  is  simply  the  full  rendering  of  the  intended 
impression ; and  high  finish  is  the  rendering  of 
a well-intended  and  vivid  impression ; and  it  is 
oftener  got  by  rough  than  fine  handling.” 

The  social  wrong  wrought  by  division  of  labor 
is  another  phase  of  Ruskin’s  arraignment  of  cur- 
rent industrialism.  A profitable  device  from  the 
point  of  view  of  production,  considered  as  mere 
quantity,  division  of  labor,  especially  in  association 
with  machinery  and  forced  by  competition,  does 
injury  to  the  producer  and  eventually  to  the  con- 
sumer. It  is  a social  wrong  to  the  workman  be- 
cause it  tends  to  degrade  him  to  a mechanism, 
exercises  but  a single  set  of  faculties,  and  disso- 
ciates him  from  the  completed  product,  a knowl- 


Ruskins  Contribution.  45 

edge  of  which  alone  makes  his  labor  rational.  “ It 
is  not  the  labor  that  is  divided,  but  the  men 
— divided  into  mere  segments  and  crumbs  of 
life.,,  It  is  a social  wrong  to  the  consumer  be- 
cause production,  though  increased  in  quantity, 
is  lessened  in  quality,  and  the  true  utility  of  the 
goods  is  correspondingly  lowered.  In  other 
words,  the  mercantile  value  of  machinery  and 
division  of  labor  does  not  coincide  with  their 
social  value,  which  is  the  true  economy.  “ It 
comes  to  this,”  says  J.  A.  Hobson,  remarking 
upon  this  point,  cc  that  only  good  work  can  pro- 
duce real  utilities ; excessive  division  of  labor,  in 
degrading  the  character  of  labor,  degrades  the 
quality  of  commodities,  and  a progress  estimated 
quantitatively  in  increase  of  low-class  material 
forms  of  wealth  is  not  true  progress.”  The  de- 
mand of  art  is  for  a whole  man,  a rational  pro- 
cess, and  a valuable  result.  Its  expression  is 
qualitative  and  not  quantitative.  And  this  ex- 
plains why  artists  and  those  associated  in  art  pro- 
duction are  the  first  to  protest  against  an  industrial 
system  that  enforces  bad  workmanship. 

Other  aspects  of  his  doctrine  of  work  are  pre- 
sented in  an  early  essay  on  pre-Raphaelitism 
and  though  this  special  passage  was  written  with 
reference  to  the  artist,  it  applies  to  all  workers  : 


46  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

“ It  may  be  proved,  with  much  certainty,  that 
God  intends  no  man  to  live  in  this  world  without 
working;  but  it  seems  to  me  no  less  evident  that 
he  intends  every  man  to  be  happy  in  his  work. 
It  is  written,  c in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow/  but  it 
was  never  written  c in  the  breaking  of  thine  heart/ 
thou  shalt  eat  bread;  and  I find  that,  as  on  the 
one  hand,  infinite  misery  is  caused  by  idle  people, 
who  both  fail  in  doing  what  was  appointed  for 
them  to  do,  and  set  in  motion  various  springs  of 
mischief  in  matters  in  which  they  should  have 
had  no  concern,  so  on  the  other  hand,  no  small 
misery  is  caused  by  overworked  and  unhappy 
people,  in  the  dark  views  which  they  necessarily 
take  up  themselves,  and  force  upon  others,  of 
work  itself.  Were  it  not  so,  I believe  the  fact  of 
their  being  unhappy  is  in  itself  a violation  of 
divine  law,  and  sign  of  some  kind  of  folly  or  sin 
in  their  way  of  life.  Now  in  order  that  people 
may  be  happy  in  their  work,  these  three  things 
are  needed : they  must  be  fit  for  it ; they  must 
not  do  too  much  of  it ; and  they  must  have  a 
sense  of  success  in  it — not  a doubtful  sense,  such 
as  needs  some  testimony  of  other  people  for  its 
confirmation,  but  a sure  sense,  or  rather  knowl- 
edge, that  so  much  work  has  been  done  well,  and 
faithfully  done,  whatever  the  world  may  say  or 


Ruskins  Contribution . 47 

think  about  it.  So  that  in  order  that  a man  may- 
be happy,  it  is  necessary  that  he  should  not  only 
be  capable  of  his  work,  but  a good  judge  of  his 
work.”  In  other  words  a certain  amount  of 
leisure,  a certain  amount  of  skill,  and  a certain 
amount  of  intelligence,  are  requisite  for  the  best 
work. 

Given,  then,  ideal  conditions  for  work,  what 
profits  should  a man  have  for  his  labor?  The 
essential  reward  lies  naturally  in  the  happiness 
which  the  work  engenders.  Labor  that  is  whole- 
some exercise,  involving  the  skill  and  intelligence 
and  character  of  the  individual,  is  not  really  labor 
in  the  Ruskinian  sense,  for  there  is  in  it  no  ex- 
pense of  life.  By  the  recognition  of  the  human 
values  of  labor  the  question  of  wages  is  rendered 
of  secondary  moment.  The  real  demand  of 
workmen  who  have  not  been  degraded  or  cor- 
rupted by  the  mammonism  of  the  day  is  not  for 
higher  wages  but  for  better  conditions  of  labor. 
The  assumption  that  a man  is  a repository  of 
energy  to  be  elicited  by  wages  alone  is  unworthy 
any  observer  of  men.  The  wage  system  is  simply 
one  stage  better  than  the  slave  system  it  super- 
seded, and  wages  high  or  low  is  still  a token  of 
industrial  bondage.  The  distinguishing  sign  of 
slavery,  Ruskin  said,  “ is  to  have  a price  and  to 


48  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

be  bought  for  it.”  The  best  work  of  artists, 
poets,  and  scientists  is  never  paid  for,  nor  can  the 
value  of  toil  in  these  fields  be  ever  measured  in 
terms  of  money.  “ The  largest  quantity  of  work,” 
our  economist  declares,  “will  not  be  done  by  this 
curious  engine  (the  Soul)  for  pay,  or  under  pres- 
sure. It  will  be  done  only  when  the  motive 
force,  that  is  to  say,  the  will  or  spirit  of  the 
creatures  is  brought  up  to  the  greatest  strength 
by  its  own  proper  fuel,  namely,  by  the  affections.” 
Could  workmen  to-day  direct  their  united  energies 
toward  self-education,  so  that  the  nature  by  which 
they  are  environed  and  the  life  with  which  they 
are  connected  might  mean  more  to  them,  and  so 
that  the  things  they  possess  might  be  more  highly 
valued  ; could  employers  understand  that  work  is 
done  well  only  when  it  is  done  with  a will  and 
that  no  man  has  a thoroughly  sound  will  unless 
he  has  character  and  is  contented,  knowing  he  is 
what  he  should  be  and  is  in  his  place — could  this 
higher  ideal  of  labor  be  generally  accepted  and 
acted  upon,  then  would  the  battle  between  those 
who  have  and  those  who  have  not  be  speedily 
ended.  The  real  labor  problem  is  not  that  of 
shorter  hours  or  of  higher  wages,  but  it  is  to 
change  the  character  of  work  so  that  work  will  be 
its  own  reward.  It  will  be  remembered  that 


Rus kin's  Contribution . 


49 


Ruskin  promised  as  the  fruit  of  ideal  labor  a 
crown  of  wild  olive,  symbolizing  by  this  token 
gray  honor  and  sweet  rest.  “ Free-heartedness, 
and  graciousness,  and  undisturbed  trust,  and  re- 
quited love,  and  the  sight  of  the  peace  of  others, 
and  the  ministry  of  their  pain ; these — and  the 
blue  sky  above  you,  and  the  sweet  waters  and 
flowers  of  the  earth  beneath ; and  mysteries  and 
presences,  innumerable,  of  living  things — may  yet 
be  your  riches,  untormenting  and  divine;  service- 
able for  the  life  that  now  is;  nor,  it  may  be,  with- 
out promise  of  that  which  is  to  come.” 

Upon  education  Ruskin  depended  for  the 
social  reforms  he  contemplated.  As  the  school 
he  ideally  constructed  was  so  largely  industrial  in 
character,  the  discussion  of  a few  of  his  educational 
principles  will  here  be  pertinent.  His  general 
attitude  may  be  understood  by  noting  the  follow- 
lowing  sentence:  ccYou  do  not  educate  a man  by 
telling  him  what  he  knew  not,  but  by  making 
him  what  he  was  not.”  From  this  we  may  know 
that  Ruskin  had  some  large  ideal  of  character, 
agreeing  in  his  main  tenets  with  Froebel  and  the 
new  educationalists.  His  primary  thought  was  that 
knowledge  must  be  accompanied  by  a habit  of 
useful  action,  else  was  it  likely  to  become  deceit- 
ful ; and  for  the  cultivation  of  the  habit  of  action 


50  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

he  advocated  the  practice  of  manual  labor.  His 
school  was  grounded  fundamentally  on  what  is  now 
called  manual  training,  having  reduced  the  three 
R’s  to  an  insignificant  position,  with  an  added  basis 
in  nature-study.  I quote  his  words  in  “ Time  and 
Tide”:  “ It  would  be  a part  of  my  scheme  of 
physical  education  that  every  youth  in  the  state 
— from  the  king’s  son  downwards — should  learn 
to  do  something  finely  and  thoroughly  with  the 
hand,  so  as  to  let  him  know  what  touch  meant ; 
and  what  stout  craftsmanship  meant ; and  to  in- 
form him  of  many  things  besides,  which  no  man 
can  learn  but  by  some  severely  accurate  discipline 
in  doing.”  Above  this  manual  training  each 
class  should  be  disciplined  according  to  the 
choice  of  occupation — the  king  for  king’s  work, 
the  bishop  for  bishop’s  work,  the  farmer  for 
farmer’s  work- — and  he  was  careful  to  require  that 
the  metal  school  should  be  presided  over  by  gold- 
smiths and  not  by  ironmasters.  As  to  the  de- 
velopment of  such  education  in  the  larger  field  of 
life  his  advice  to  the  priests  of  the  church — “the 
gentlemen  of  the  embroidered  robe  ” — may  be 
taken  as  typical : “ Do  not  burn  any  more 

candles,  but  make  some;  do  not  paint  any  more 
windows,  but  mend  a few  where  the  wind  comes 
in,  in  winter  time,  with  substantial  clear  glass  and 


Ruskin  s Contribution . 


51 

putty.  Do  not  vault  any  more  high  roofs,  but 
thatch  some  low  ones  ; and  embroider  rather  on 
backs  which  are  turned  to  the  cold,  than  on  those 
which  are  turned  to  congregations. ” 

Ruskin’s  peculiar  importance  in  the  history  of 
thought  may  now  be  determined  by  comparing 
him  with  Carlyle,  from  whom  he  derived  much, 
yet  from  whom  he  diverged  widely.  Ruskin  was 
impelled  to  undertake  his  social  mission  by  read- 
ing Carlyle’s  “Hero  Worship.”  Becoming  per- 
sonally acquainted  about  the  year  1850,  the  two 
grew  toward  each  other  in  those  things  which  are 
controlled  by  temperament.  Both  were  men  of 
vigorous  individuality.  Both  had  sincerity  as  the 
mainspring  of  their  energy.  Both  of  them,  opti- 
mistic in  their  youth  and  early  manhood,  gradu- 
ally declined  to  the  mood  of  pessimism.  The  bells 
of  life  jangled  and  went  out  of  tune.  By  1863 
Ruskin’s  mood  had  fallen  black  and  harsh,  and 
he  scolded  more  and  was  more  impatient.  The 
fine  earnestness  that  always  distinguished  him  had 
lost  its  radiance,  and  pleasure  seemed  to  have  gone 
out  of  his  work,  while  the  thing  to  be  accom- 
plished loomed  larger  and  more  necessary  than 
ever.  In  their  moods  of  doubt  both  thinkers  pro- 
claimed the  need  of  a nation’s  governance  by  its 
superior  members — the  aristoi  by  divine  sanction. 


52  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

who  should  be  leaders  and  rulers  in  a state  of 
natural  feudalism.  Their  social  order  was  essen- 
tially a theocracy,  with  a hierarchy  of  saints  and 
apostles,  and  extending  down  to  classes  and  sub- 
jects and  slaves.  Both  men  were  thus  antagonistic 
to  the  democratic  spirit,  which  tended  to  place 
every  man  in  rule  of  himself,  and  so  to  overcome 
the  sense  of  reverence  and  obedience  to  authority 
in  the  hearts  of  the  masses.  Across  the  waters  to 
America  they  looked  with  contemptuous  eyes, 
the  one  seeing  too  much  roast  goose  and  apple 
sauce,  the  other  too  few  castles  and  ruins.  But 
Ruskin  surpassed  Carlyle  in  constructive  ability. 
Where  the  one  simply  called  for  leaders  to  rule 
the  chaos  of  the  world,  the  other  proposed  a defi- 
nite plan  for  the  social  order  and  appointed  the 
leaders  to  their  places.  With  Ruskin,  destructive 
criticism  was  linked  with  the  instinct  of  repair.  A 
great  scientist,  perhaps  a great  artist  and  poet,  was 
lost  to  the  world  in  Ruskin.  As  it  was,  he  was  a 
careful  student  of  rocks  and  plants  and  clouds,  an 
engraver,  drawing-master,  and  painter  of  no  mean 
ability,  and  a writer  of  sincere  if  not  great  poetry. 
During  the  few  years  he  was  professor  of  art  at 
Oxford  he  was  establishing  a drawing-school, 
making  collections  of  paintings  and  drawings,  issu- 
ing helpful  catalogs  for  the  use  of  the  public, 


Ruskin  s Contribution . 5 3 

writing  plain  letters  to  workingmen  on  social  ques- 
tions, encouraging  his  students  to  repair  roads  and 
to  give  other  social  service,  and  helping  to  form  a 
new  social  organization,  which  he  called  the  Soci- 
ety of  St.  George.  Then  finally  he  passed  beyond 
Carlyle,  and  indeed  beyond  every  other  writer  of 
his  day,  in  his  knowledge  of  art.  He  knew  the 
method,  the  meaning,  and  the  impelling  motive 
of  the  higher  industrialism.  He  sought  to  correct 
the  political  economy  of  his  time  by  including  in 
its  data  all  that  art  had  furnished.  The  very  titles 
of  his  books — “ Modern  Painters,”  “ Stones  of 
Venice,”  u Lamps  of  Architecture  ”— denote  the 
wide  field  over  which  he  worked.  Then  in  all 
practical  matters  he  tried  to  connect  art  with  labor, 
thinking  by  this  association  to  vitalize  art  and  to 
elevate  labor.  It  is  in  Ruskin  that  the  modern 
arts  and  crafts  movement  had  its  original  source. 
To  him  we  are  indebted  for  the  startling  aphorism, 
<c  Life  without  industry  is  guilt,  industry  without 
art  is  brutality.” 

The  reformatory  experiments  of  an  industrial 
nature,  undertaken  directly  by  Ruskin  or  stimu- 
lated by  his  teachings,  form  perhaps  the  most  in- 
teresting phase  of  our  subject.  As  is  well  known, 
the  great  bulk  of  Ruskin’s  inherited  fortune  and 
of  his  earnings  was  expended  in  philanthropic  and 


54  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

educational  schemes  of  one  sort  or  another  in  the 
almost  vain  attempt  to  better  the  social  condition 
of  England.  Brought  up  in  isolation  and  edu- 
cated as  a cc gentleman  commoner”  he  found  him- 
self poorly  equipped  for  his  mission  as  industrial 
reformer,  but  desirous  of  coming  into  closer  con- 
tact with  workingmen,  he  interested  himself  as 
early  as  1854  in  various  educational  institutions 
designed  for  workmen,  and  persuaded  by  F.  D. 
Maurice,  gave  at  the  Workingman's  College  his 
first  lectures  on  drawing  and  decorative  art.  His 
general  lectures  at  this  institution  and  elsewhere 
at  this  period  anticipated  the  methods  of  univer- 
sity extension,  a cause  which  he  heartily  encour- 
aged at  its  inception.  The  university-settlement 
idea  was  first  discussed  at  his  house,  and  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  his  conception  of  the  functions  of 
“bishops"  determined  the  activities  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  settlement  houses.  Having  some 
property  in  London  from  which  he  was  drawing 
rent,  he  sought  to  become  the  best  possible  land- 
lord, and  enlisted  the  help  of  Miss  Octavia  Hill 
and  others  in  improving  the  habitableness  of  tene- 
ments. He  practically  inaugurated  the  move- 
ment of  cc  five  per  cent  philanthropy,"  recently 
become  prominent.  In  1854,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  opening  of  the  Crystal  Palace  in  Lon- 


Ruskins  Contribution . 55 

don,  all  of  glass  and  iron,  like  a gigantic  green- 
house, Ruskin  wrote  a pamphlet  pleading  for 
the  preservation  of  the  great  buildings  of  the 
past,  then  neglected  and  falling  to  ruins,  and  out 
of  this  suggestion  came  the  Society  for  the  Pres- 
ervation of  Ancient  Buildings,  in  the  work  of 
which  William  Morris  figured  so  conspicuously. 
As  a writer,  manufacturer,  and  distributer  of 
books,  he  tried  to  apply  the  principles  of  com- 
mercial integrity  and  honor  he  had  advocated  ; he 
would  not  advertise ; he  employed  no  middle- 
men; he  gave  no  discounts;  he  engaged  in  no 
competitive  struggle  for  a market ; he  looked  out 
for  the  welfare  of  the  workmen  employed  in  manu- 
facture ; he  used  the  best  paper  he  could  procure, 
and  took  extraordinary  care  with  the  printing;  he 
began  the  sale  of  his  books  from  a little  Kentish 
village,  at  one  price,  and  without  credit.  Of  like 
nature  was  his  experiment  with  a London  tea- 
shop  : putting  a salaried  servant  in  charge,  he 
built  up  a successful  business  in  tea,  without  ad- 
vertisement or  any  trick  of  the  trade,  and  was 
enabled  later  to  turn  the  shop  over  to  Miss  Hill 
as  a part  of  his  good-tenement  scheme.  He  was 
not  above  street-cleaning  or  road-making,  as  was 
shown  by  his  forming  a company  to  keep  a cer- 
tain length  of  London  street  “ clean  as  the  deck 


56  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

of  a ship  ” for  a given  season,  and  by  his  joining 
in  with  Oxford  undergraduates  in  mending  the 
Hinksey  road.  The  most  considerable  of  his 
practical  schemes  for  reform  was  the  St.  George's 
Company,  which  began  to  take  definite  shape 
about  1875.  The  general  purpose  of  this  com- 
pany or  guild  was  to  socialize  both  capital  and 
labor,  and  incidentally  to  demonstrate  two  eco- 
nomic propositions — one  that  agriculture  formed 
the  only  genuine  basis  of  national  life,  and  the 
other  that  happiness  was  derived  from  honest  and 
contented  co-operative  labor.  It  was  his  object  to 
collect  from  persons  of  means  a fund  of  money 
sufficient  to  buy  land,  at  first  for  a small  colony 
of  Ruskinites,  who  should  form  an  ideal  nucleus 
of  perfectly  just  persons,  and  from  whom  the  idea 
of  justice  should  radiate,  until  the  whole  social 
body  was  shaped  to  its  image.  As  the  idea  of  a 
perfect  social  order  matured  in  Ruskin's  mind  he 
turned  his  thoughts  more  and  more  to  the  possi- 
bility of  showing  to  the  world,  in  the  St.  George's 
Guild,  a copy  of  his  vision  of  the  new  feudalism. 
With  insufficient  means  for  the  experiment,  and 
with  no  marked  public  approval,  there  was  no 
opportunity  in  Ruskin's  lifetime  for  the  dream  to 
be  realized.  Like  many  another  social  dream, 


Rus kin's  Contribution . 57 

the  St.  George's  Guild  remains  a paper  utopia — 
though  its  conception  is  by  no  means  unpotential 
for  the  future.  As  the  agricultural  proposition 
could  not  be  proved,  the  guild  funds  were  devoted 
to  the  establishment  of  the  Ruskin  Museum  at 
Sheffield;  and  as  this  museum  embodies  certain 
of  the  master's  ideas  on  education,  this  much 
of  his  original  plan  may  be  said  to  be  realized. 
The  finer  examples  of  man’s  and  nature's  cre- 
ated forms  are  here  placed  in  view  with  reference 
to  their  ethnic,  scientific,  and  artistic  significance, 
and  the  museum  is  so  conducted  that  the  objects 
displayed  minister  at  once  to  delight  and  instruc- 
tion. With  this  museum  as  a nucleus,  with  the 
many  societies  organized  in  England  and  America 
for  the  study  of  Ruskin's  writings,  the  general 
ideal,  if  not  all  the  specific  ones,  of  the  St.  George's 
Guild  may  yet  be  materialized.  Already  the 
modern  revival  of  various  home  industries,  par- 
ticularly in  spinning  and  weaving,  is  due  directly 
to  Ruskin's  teachings.  It  was  one  of  his  opinions 
that  workers  should  engage  in  some  useful  craft 
under  wholesome  and  humane  conditions,  and  an- 
other that  the  people,  the  consuming  class,  should 
have  the  opportunity  of  using  sound  and  service- 
able goods  instead  of  being  compelled  to  buy  what 


58  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

Carlyle  called  “ cheap  and  nasty  ” ones.  He 
thought  that  home  industry  might  still  exist  by 
the  side  of  the  machine-driven  factory.  Two  op- 
portunities of  reviving  the  spinning  and  weaving 
industries  presented  themselves  in  Ruskin’s  life- 
time— one  on  the  Isle  of  Man,  where  the  industry 
was  languishing,  and  another  among  the  West- 
moreland cottages,  where  the  art  had  long  since 
passed  away.  The  successful  revival  of  these 
local  industries  was  the  initial  phase  of  a general 
economic  movement  that  has  to-day  for  social 
support  the  Home  Arts  and  Industries  Associa- 
tion, which  has  succeeded  in  establishing  many  of 
the  handicrafts  upon  a permanent  economic  basis. 
This  movement  is  not  to  be  understood  as  a fa- 
natical protest  against  machinery,  and  not  as  a 
return  to  the  abandoned  domestic  system  of  mediae- 
val days,  but  rather  as  a modern  conscious  effort 
to  advance  a step  beyond  the  factory  stage  of  in- 
dustry, and  to  inaugurate  a new  industrialism 
wherein  the  interests  of  both  the  producing  and 
consuming  classes  are  guarded — the  one  class  de- 
manding the  opportunity  of  individual  expression, 
and  the  other  the  satisfaction  of  its  higher  wants. 
So  it  is  to-day  that  in  nearly  every  instance  of  or- 
ganized effort  to  create  better  industrial  condi- 
tions the  informing  mind  of  Ruskin  is  somewhere 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 59 

apparent.  In  whatever  direction  one  advances  it 
is  discovered  that  this  pioneer  mind  has  gone  on 
before — and  as  the  world  advances  but  slowly  it 
will  be  long  before  he  can  be  passed  by. 

III.  Morris  and  His  Plea  for  an  Industrial 
Commonwealth. 

By  the  middle  of  the  century  Carlyle  and  Rus- 
kin  had  created  a certain  discipleship,  and  were 
receiving  the  unbounded  admiration  of  young 
men  of  fervent  and  poetic  temperament,  who  were 
drawn  at  first,  probably,  by  the  splendid  rhetoric 
of  “Past  and  Present”  and  “ Modern  Painters  ” 
without  examining  very  closely  their  social  impli- 
cations. Chief  among  the  admirers  of  Ruskin 
was  William  Morris,  his  junior  by  fifteen  years. 
Morris  was  just  entering  Oxford  as  Ruskin  was 
publishing  the  cc  Stones  of  Venice,”  the  book  that 
first  kindled  in  Morris  his  social  beliefs,  to  which 
he  always  referred  as  the  first  statement  of  the 
doctrine  that  art  is  the  expression  of  man's  pleasure 
in  labor,  and  whose  chapter  “On  the  Nature  of 
the  Gothic  ” he  reprinted  forty  years  after  its  first 
publication  as  one  of  the  first  products  of  the 
Kelmscott  Press,  to  stand  in  testimony  of  the 
abiding  influence  of  the  master-thinker.  The 
development  of  the  two  men  was,  indeed,  strangely 


60  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

parallel,  with  certain  differences  of  direction  shortly 
to  be  noted.  Ruskin  was  born,  in  1 8 1 9,  of  Scotch 
ancestry,  Morris,  in  1834,  of  Welsh  parentage, 
both  possessing  thus  a strain  of  the  emotional  and 
mystic  Celt.  Their  fathers  were  successful  busi- 
ness men  of  London — the  one  a wine  merchant, 
the  other  a discount  broker  and  general  speculator 
- — and  both  left  their  sons  such  considerable  for- 
tune as  to  relieve  them  from  the  necessity  of  com- 
peting for  a livelihood.  The  boys  were  brought 
up  in  surroundings  that  fostered  a love  of  nature, 
devotion  to  poetry  and  art,  and  a regard  for  piety 
— both  being  intended  by  their  parents  for  the 
church.  Ruskin  matriculated  at  Christ  Church, 
Oxford,  as  a cc gentleman  commoner,”  in  1837. 
Morris  at  Exeter  College,  in  1853,  entered  essen- 
tially the  same  Oxford  that  Ruskin  had  left  eleven 
years  before,  an  Oxford  from  which  the  cc  last  en- 
chantments of  the  Middle  Ages  ” had  not  yet  van- 
ished, which  was  even  then  in  the  midst  of  a 
mediaeval  revival,  supported  by  Newman  and  the 
pre-Raphaelite  brotherhood,  although  signs  of 
change  were  beginning  to  be  noticed  by  the  younger 
generation.  Neither  exhibited  at  Oxford  any 
special  attachment  to  scholarship,  though  their 
reading  extended  much  beyond  the  requirement 
of  the  schools,  and  both  won  distinction  for  their 


Morris  and  His  Plea. 


61 

poetic  achievement — Ruskin  by  winning  the  New- 
digate  prize  with  his  “ Salsette  and  Elephanta,” 
and  Morris  by  winning  the  applause  of  his  friends 
in  a less  conspicuous  way  with  his  <c  Willow  and 
the  Red  Cliff.”  Ruskin  abandoned  verse  to 
write  cc  Modern  Painters  ” in  more  successful 
prose.  For  thirty  years  verse  was  the  one  form 
employed  by  Morris  for  pure  literature.  But  the 
prose  of  the  one  and  the  verse  of  the  other  are 
equally  distinctive.  The  year  that  Morris  went 
up  to  Oxford  Ruskin  was  delivering  at  Edinburgh 
his  lectures  on  Architecture  and  Painting,  which  on 
publication,  introduced  his  Oxford  adherents  to 
Rossetti  and  the  pre-Raphaelites.  “Modern 
Painters  ” and  “ Stones  of  Venice”  were  already 
well  known  to  them,  and  Canon  Dixon  tells  in  his 
reminiscences  of  Oxford  how  Morris  would  read 
Ruskin  aloud:  “ He  had  a mighty,  singing  voice, 
and  chanted  rather  than  read  those  weltering 
oceans  of  eloquence  as  they  have  never  been  given 
before  or  since,  it  is  most  certain.”  Though  per- 
haps attracted  by  the  eloquence  Morris  perceived 
also  something  of  the  social  bearings  of  “ Stones 
of  Venice,”  and  speaking  of  its  chapter  “ On  the 
Nature  of  the  Gothic  ” long  after,  he  testified  that 
when  he  first  read  it,  “ it  seemed  to  point  out  a new 
road  on  which  the  world  should  travel.”  It  is 


62  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

likely  that  Ruskin  initiated  in  the  minds  of  the 
Oxford  group  their  thought  of  brotherhood  and 
their  attempt  to  inaugurate  “ a crusade  and  holy 
warfare  against  the  age.”  It  was  in  the  interest 
of  some  idea  of  cc  the  higher  life  ” that  the  Oxford 
and  Cambridge  Magazine  was  issued  by  the 
Brotherhood  in  1856,  though  its  literary  and 
artistic  features  exceeded  the  social.  Gradually, 
however,  the  Brotherhood  tended  toward  a social 
doctrine,  though  Morris  did  not  engage  militantly 
in  socialism  till  long  after.  It  is  significant  that 
Morris  took  his  first  step  in  socialism  in  seconding 
Ruskin’s  proposition  for  the  preservation  of 
ancient  buildings  against  the  so-called  restorer. 
And  in  all  respects  of  social  and  political  economy 
Morris  was  but  the  pupil  of  Ruskin,  for  he  origi- 
nated almost  nothing  in  point  of  theory,  the  social- 
ism with  which  he  identified  himself  being  but  the 
socialism  of  Ruskin’s  “Unto  This  Last,”  as  proved, 
of  course,  by  his  own  practical  experience.  Of 
narrower  range  than  Ruskin,  but  more  intensive 
in  his  own  direction,  he  gave  his  life  to  the  deter- 
mination of  the  relation  between  art  and  labor, 
and  made  himself,  therefore,  the  chief  exponent  of 
the  idea  of  the  arts  and  crafts.  Ruskin  theorized ; 
Morris  demonstrated:  henceforth  the  problem  of 
other  workers  is  that  of  extension  and  inclusion. 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 63 

“ Poet,  artist,  manufacturer,  and  socialist”  — 
these  terms  describe  the  life-work  of  Morris  in 
in  its  three-fold  aspect  of  artist,  craftsman,  and 
social  reformer.  With  his  strictly  literary  writings 
I am  not  now  concerned,  save  to  observe  their 
abstraction,  their  devotion  to  pure  beauty,  their 
lack  of  contemporaneity,  and  their  note  of  weari- 
ness. His  poetic  fame  rests  secure,  and  is  not 
dependent  upon  what  he  wrought  in  other  fields ; 
yet  if  we  had  only  the  data  of  his  poetry,  our 
measure  of  Morris  would  fall  far  short  of  his  real 
greatness,  and  we  should  know  only  his  less  posi- 
tive side.  Some  would  call  his  socialism  a divaga- 
tion in  the  wilderness.  But  I think  it  may  be 
proved  that  without  a definite  socialism  his  crafts- 
manship would  have  been  wanting  its  motive,  and 
without  material  craft  his  art  would  have  been 
attenuated  to  the  merest  symbolism  of  dream. 
Exclusive  and  aristocratic  by  nature,  his  great 
work  of  democratizing  art  would  not  have  been 
undertaken  except  as  a new  ideal  seized  and  bound 
him  to  its  service.  In  the  order  of  his  develop- 
ment poetry  preceded  and  then  coincided  with  his 
craft,  his  craft  preceded  and  then  coincided  with 
his  socialism. 

The  history  of  handicraft  shows  no  life  more 
eventful  than  Morris’s,  or  more  filled  with  notable 


64  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

achievements.  As  a boy  his  hands  were  always 
active,  net-making  being  a favorite  diversion.  It 
was  foreseen  that  he  would  take  up  the  pencil  and 
the  engraver’s  tool  at  the  earliest  opportunity  of 
instruction,  although  he  was  matriculated  at  Ox- 
ford for  holy  orders.  His  college  chum,  Burne- 
Jones — also  intended  for  the  church,  but  even 
then  practicing  the  art  by  which  he  was  to  become 
famous — taught  him  drawing  and  engraving,  and 
the  two  artists  were  soon  considering  the  advisa- 
bility of  giving  up  the  church  and  devoting  their 
lives  to  art — the  one  aspiring  to  be  a painter,  the 
other  an  architect.  To  architecture  forthwith  Mor- 
ris turned  his  attention,  and  while  he  never  worked 
professionally  as  an  architect,  his  studies  at  this 
time  were  of  immense  service  in  clarifying  his 
thought  and  concentrating  his  energies.  <c  Then 
and  always,”  remarks  Mr.  Mackail,  u the  word 
architecture  bore  an  immense,  and  one  might 
almost  say  a transcendental,  meaning.  Connected 
at  a thousand  points  with  all  the  other  specific  arts 
which  ministered  to  it  out  of  a thousand  sources, 
it  was  itself  the  tangible  expression  of  all  the 
order,  the  comeliness,  the  sweetness,  nay,  even 
the  mystery  and  the  law,  which  sustain  man’s 
world  and  make  human  life  what  it  is.  To  him 
the  house  beautiful  represented  the  visible  form 


OMtbAY  W£  jHALLV/miRM^ 
P.T  agai  n to  ovr  daia%M 
I .A  H O R , V/ 1 M 8 AC  K-aMB  T,  k 
I'i  l AT  I'i  To  8 A 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 65 

of  life  itself.  Not  only  as  a craftsman  and  manu- 
facturer, a worker  in  dyed  stuffs  and  textiles  and 
glass,  a pattern  designer  and  decorator,  but 
throughout  the  whole  range  of  life,  he  was  from 
first  to  last  the  architect,  the  mastercraftsman, 
whose  range  of  work  was  so  phenomenal,  and  his 
sudden  transitions  from  one  to  another  form  of 
productive  energy  so  swift  and  perplexing  because, 
himself  secure  in  the  center,  he  struck  outwards 
to  any  point  of  the  circumference  with  equal  direct 
ness,  with  equal  precision,  unperplexed  by  artificial 
divisions  of  art,  and  untrammeled  by  any  limiting 
rules  of  professional  custom.”  The  paper  he  con- 
tributed to  the  Oxford  and  Cambridge  Magazine 
on  Amiens  Cathedral,  one  of  the  noblest  tributes 
ever  paid  to  the  great  building,  rivaling  the  best 
writings  of  Ruskin  on  architecture,  is  a witness  to 
the  place  the  subject  was  holding  in  his  thought 
and  affections.  While  in  the  office  of  Mr.  G.  E. 
Street,  and  pursuing  his  studies  in  architecture,  he 
began  the  practice  of  more  than  one  handicraft — 
clay-modeling,  wood  and  stone  carving,  manu- 
script illumination,  window-designing  and  embroi- 
dery, and  these  occupations  were  soon  to  fill  his 
days  even  to  the  exclusion  of  painting,  which  Ros- 
setti had  taught  him,  and  of  poetry,  which  was 
his  native  expression.  His  hands  were,  indeed, 


66  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

those  of  a fine  workman — broad,  short,  muscular, 
and  finely  disciplined,  and  probably  his  truest  per- 
sonality was  realized  in  motor  activity.  The 
beginning  of  Morris's  work  as  a decorator  and 
manufacturer  was  due  to  the  trifling  circumstance 
that  certain  rooms  in  Red  Lion  Square,  which  he 
had  engaged  for  lodging  in  1857,  were  unfurnished 
and  in  need  of  repair.  It  is  worth  while  to  look 
at  this  incident  quite  closely.  Mr.  Mackail’s 
account  is  sufficiently  elaborate : “ The  arts  of 
cabinet-making  and  upholstery  had  at  this  time 
reached  the  lowest  point  to  which  they  had  ever 
sunk.  Ugliness  and  vulgarity  reigned  in  them 
unchecked.  While  he  lived  in  furnished  rooms 
it  was  easy  to  accept  things  as  they  were ; but 
now,  when  furniture  had  actually  to  be  bought,  it 
became  at  once  clear  that  nothing  could  be  had 
that  was  beautiful,  or  indeed,  that  was  not  actually 
hideous.  Nor  was  it  possible  even  to  get  so  sim- 
ple a thing  as  a table  or  chair,  still  less  any  more 
elaborate  piece  of  furniture  made  at  the  furnish- 
ing shops  from  a better  design.  It  was  this  state 
of  things  which  drove  Morris  and  Webb  to  take 
up  the  designing  and  making  of  objects  of  com- 
mon use  on  their  account ; and  which  led,  a few 
years  later,  to  the  formation  of  the  firm  of  Morris 
and  Company.  For  the  moment,  however,  all  that 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 6 7 

was  possible  was  that  Morris  should  make  rough 
drawings  of  the  things  he  most  wanted,  and  then 
get  a carpenter  in  the  neighborhood  to  construct 
them  from  those  drawings  in  plain  deal.  Thus 
the  rooms  in  the  Red  Lion  Square  were  gradually 
provided  with  ‘intensely  mediaeval  furniture/  as 
Rossetti  described  it,  c tables  and  chairs  like  incubi 
and  succubi.’  First  came  a large,  round  table  ‘as 
firm  and  as  heavy  as  a rock’;  then  some  large  chairs, 
equally  firm,  and  not  lightly  to  be  moved,  ‘such 
as  Barbarossa  might  have  sat  in.’  Afterwards  a 
large  settle  was  designed,  with  a long  seat  below, 
and  above  three  cupboards  with  great  swing  doors. 
‘There  were  many  scenes  with  the  carpenters/  Sir 
Edward  Burne-Jones  says;  ‘especially  I remember 
the  night  when  the  settle  came  home.  We  were 
out  when  it  reached  the  house,  but  when  we  came 
in  all  the  passages  and  the  staircase  were  choked 
with  vast  blocks  of  timber,  and  there  was  a scene. 
I think  the  measurements  had  perhaps  been  given 
a little  wrongly,  and  that  it  was  bigger  altogether 
than  he  had  ever  meant;  but  set  up  it  was  finally, 
and  our  studio  was  one-third  less  in  size.  Ros- 
setti came.  This  was  always  a terrifying  moment 
to  the  very  last.  He  laughed  but  approved.'  Not 
only  so,  but  he  at  once  made  designs  for  oil  paint- 
ings to  be  executed  on  the  panels  of  the  cupboard 


68  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

doors,  and  the  sides  of  the  settle.  The  design  for 
the  central  panel,  Love  between  the  Sun  and  the 
Moon,  was  only  executed  later ; but  the  painting  of 
the  two  others  was  completed  during  this  winter; 
and  these  panels,  afterwards  removed  from  the 
cupboard,  are  now  known  as  the  Meeting  of 
Dante  and  Beatrice  in  Florence,  and  their  Meet- 
ing in  Paradise.  On  the  backs  of  two  of  the 
large,  heavy  chairs  he  also  painted  subjects  from 
Morris’s  own  poems ; these  panels,  one  repre- 
senting Guendolen  in  the  witch-tower,  and  the 
Prince  below  kissing  her  long,  golden  hair,  and 
the  other  the  arming  of  a knight,  from  the  Christ- 
mas Mystery  of  c Sir  Galahad/  are  also  extant. 
The  theory  that  furniture  should  exist  to  provide 
spaces  for  pictorial  decoration  was  carried  in  these 
chairs  to  an  extreme  limit.  But  the  next  piece  of 
furniture  required  for  the  rooms  was  a wardrobe ; 
and  this,  covered  by  Burne-Jones,  in  the  spring  of 
1857,  with  paintings  from  c The  Prioress’s  Tale’ 
in  Chaucer,  remained  to  the  last  the  principal 
ornament  of  Morris’s  drawing-room  in  London, 
and  is  familiar  to  all  his  later  as  well  as  his  older 
friends.” 

This  year  1857  was  indeed  a climacteric  year 
with  Morris.  Practicing  painting  under  Rossetti’s 
direction,  experimenting  in  mural  decoration  on 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 69 

the  walls  of  the  Oxford  Union  Society,  feeling 
his  way  in  various  arts  and  handicrafts,  preparing 
also  “ The  Defence  of  Guinevere  ” for  publication, 
here  was  evidence  of  a splendid  general  culture, 
which,  when  specialized,  was  destined  to  accomplish 
grand  results.  In  1859  and  i860  Morris  and 
Philip  Webb,  just  out  of  the  architect’s  office, 
built  the  famous  Red  House  in  an  orchard  and 
meadow  plot  near  London,  carrying  out  in  prac- 
tice for  the  first  time  their  theories  of  domestic 
building  and  decoration.  These  first  steps  are  so 
important  that  Mackaii’s  account  of  the  house 
may  be  quoted  in  full : <c  It  was  planned  as  an 

L-shaped  building,  two-storied,  with  a high- 
pitched  roof  of  red  tile.  The  beautiful  oak  stair- 
case filled  a bold  projection  in  the  angle,  and  cor- 
ridors ran  from  it  along  both  the  inner  walls,  so 
that  the  rooms  on  both  limbs  of  the  house  faced 
outward  onto  the  garden.  The  two  other  sides  of 
this  half-quadrangle  were  masked  by  rose-trellises, 
inclosing  a square  inner  court,  in  the  middle  of 
which  rose  the  most  striking  architectural  feature 
of  the  building,  a well-house  of  brickwork  and 
oak  timber,  with  a steep,  conical,  tiled  roof.  Ex- 
ternally the  house  was  plain  almost  to  severity, 
and  depended  for  its  effect  on  its  solidity  and  fine 
proportion.  The  decorative  features  it  possessed 


jo  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

were  constructional,  not  of  the  nature  of  applied 
ornament : the  frankly  emphasized  relieving  arches 
over  the  windows,  the  deep  cornice  molding,  the 
louvre  in  the  high,  open  roof  over  the  staircase, 
and  the  two  spacious  recessed  porches.  Inside,  its 
most  remarkable  feature  was  the  large  drawing- 
room, which  filled  the  external  angle  of  the  L on 
the  upper  floor.  It  looked  by  its  main  end 
window  northwards  toward  the  road  and  the 
open  country,  and  a projecting  oriel  on  the  west- 
ern side  overlooked  the  long  bowling-green,  which 
ran,  encircled  with  apple-trees,  close  under  the 
length  of  that  wing.  The  decoration  of  the  room, 
and  of  the  staircase  by  which  it  was  reached,  was 
to  be  the  work  of  several  years  for  Morris  and  his 
friends;  and  he  boldly  announced  that  he  meant 
to  make  it  the  most  beautiful  room  in  England. 
But  through  the  whole  house,  inside  and  out,  the 
same  standard  was,  so  far  as  possible,  to  be  kept 

Up* 

It  was  at  this  point  that  the  problem  of  decora- 
tion began.  The  bricklaying  and  carpentering 
could  be  executed  directly  from  the  architect's  de- 
signs. But  when  the  shell  of  the  house  was  com- 
pleted, and  stood  clean  and  bare  among  the  apple- 
trees,  everything — or  nearly  everything — that  was 
to  furnish  or  decorate  it  had  to  be  likewise  de- 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


71 

signed  and  made.  Only  in  a few  isolated  cases, 
such  as  Persian  carpets  and  blue  china  or  delft  for 
vessels  of  household  use,  was  there  anything  then 
to  be  bought  ready-made  that  Morris  could  be 
content  with  in  his  own  house.  Not  a chair,  or 
table,  or  bed;  not  a cloth  or  paper-hanging  for 
the  walls ; nor  tiles  to  line  fireplaces  or  passages ; 
nor  a curtain  or  a candlestick.  These  had  to  be 
reinvented,  one  might  almost  say,  to  escape  the 
flat  ugliness  of  the  current  article.  The  great 
painted  settle  from  Red  Lion  Square  was  taken 
and  set  up  in  the  drawing-room,  the  top  of  it  be- 
ing railed  in  so  as  to  form  a small  music  gallery. 
Much  of  the  furniture  was  designed  by  Webb  and 
executed  under  his  eye:  the  great  oak  dining- 
table,  other  tables,  chairs,  cupboards,  massive  cop- 
per candlesticks,  fire-dogs,  and  table  glass  of 
extreme  beauty.  The  plastered  walls  and  ceilings 
were  treated  with  simple  designs  in  tempera,  and 
for  the  hall  and  main  living-rooms  a richer  and 
more  elaborate  scheme  of  decoration  was  designed 
and  gradually  began  to  be  executed.  The  garden 
was  planned  with  the  same  care  and  originality  as 
the  house ; in  both  alike  the  study  of  older  models 
never  sank  into  mere  antiquarianism  or  imitation 
of  obsolete  forms.  Morris’s  knowledge  of  archi- 
tecture was  so  entirely  a part  of  himself  that  he 


7 2 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

never  seemed  to  think  about  it  as  anything  pe- 
culiar. But  in  his  knowledge  of  gardening  he 
did— and  did  with  reason — pride  himself.  It  is 
very  doubtful  whether  he  was  ever  seen  with  a 
spade  in  his  hands ; in  later  years  at  Kelmscott  his 
manual  work  in  the  garden  was  almost  limited  to 
clipping  yew  hedges.  But  of  flowers  and  vege- 
tables and  fruit-trees  he  knew  all  the  ways  and 
capabilities.  Red  House  garden,  with  its  long 
grass  walks,  its  midsummer  lilies  and  autumn  sun- 
flowers, its  wattled  rose-trellises  inclosing  richly 
flowered  square  garden  plots,  was  then  as  unique 
as  the  house  it  surrounded.  The  building  had 
been  planned  with  such  care  that  hardly  a tree  in 
the  orchard  had  to  be  cut  down ; apples  fell  in  at 
the  windows  as  they  stood  open  on  hot  autumn 
nights.” 

Into  this  house  the  Morrises  moved  during  the 
summer  of  i860,  and  after  two  years  of  residence 
the  house  was  practically  completed. 

cc  The  garden,  skilfully  laid  out  amid  the  old 
orchard,  had  developed  its  full  beauty,  and  the 
adornment  of  the  house  kept  growing  into  greater 
and  greater  elaboration.  A scheme  had  been  de- 
signed for  the  mural  decoration  of  the  hall,  stair- 
case, and  drawing-room,  upon  various  parts  of 
which  work  went  on  intermittently  for  several 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 73 

years.  The  walls  of  the  spacious  and  finely  pro- 
portioned staircase  were  to  be  completely  covered 
with  paintings  in  tempera  of  scenes  from  the  War 
of  Troy,  to  be  designed  and  executed  by  Burne- 
Jones.  Below  them  on  a large  wall  space  in  the 
hall  was  to  be  a great  ship  carrying  the  Greek 
heroes.  It  was  designed,  as  the  rest  of  the  Troy 
series  were  also  to  have  been,  in  a frankly  mediae- 
val spirit ; a warship  indeed  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, with  the  shields  of  the  kings  hung  over  the 
bulwarks.  Round  the  drawing-room,  at  a height 
of  about  five  feet  from  the  floor,  was  to  be  a con- 
tinuous belt  of  pictures,  the  subjects  of  which  were 
scenes  from  the  fifteenth-century  English  romance 
of  c Sir  Degrevaunt.’  Three  of  them  were  exe- 
cuted by  Burne-Jones,  and  remain  on  the  walls  now. 
Below  them  the  wall  was  to  have  been  covered  with 
magnificent  embroidered  hangings.  The  princi- 
pal bedroom  was  hung  with  indigo-dyed  blue  serge 
with  a pattern  of  flowers  worked  on  it  in  bright- 
colored  wools.  For  the  dining-room  embroidered 
hangings  of  a much  more  elaborate  and  splendid 
nature  were  designed  and  partly  executed,  in  a 
scheme  of  design  like  those  of  his  later  tapestries 
when  he  revived  the  art  of  tapestry-weaving,  of 
twelve  figures  with  trees  between  and  above  them, 
and  a belt  of  flowers  running  below  their  feet. 


74  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

Yet  another  hanging,  executed  by  Morris  with  his 
own  hands,  was  of  green  trees  with  gayly  colored 
birds  among  them,  and  a running  scroll  em- 
blazoned with  his  motto  in  English,  cc  If  I can.” 
The  same  motto  in  French  reappeared  in  the 
painted  glass  with  which  a number  of  windows  of 
the  house  were  gradually  filled,  and  on  the  tiles 
which  lined  the  deep  porches.  In  the  hall  a 
second  great  cupboard  began  to  be  painted  with 
scenes  from  the  Niebelungenlied.  There  were 
no  paper  hangings  in  the  house.  The  rooms  that 
had  not  painted  walls  were  hung  with  flower- 
embroidered  cloth  worked  from  his  designs  by 
Mrs.  Morris  and  other  needlewomen.  Even  the 
ceilings  were  decorated  with  bold,  simple  patterns 
in  distemper,  the  design  being  pricked  into  the 
plaster  so  as  to  admit  of  the  ceiling  being  re-white- 
washed and  the  decoration  renewed.  c Top  thrives 
though  bandy,’  writes  Burne-Jones,  in  February, 
1862,  cand  is  slowly  making  Red  House  the 
beautifullest  place  on  earth.’  ” 

Out  of  the  building  and  furnishing  of  this  house 
Morris’s  work  as  a manufacturer  sprang.  He 
had  felt  the  joy  of  workmanship,  he  had  been 
made  aware  of  his  wonderful  faculty  of  designing, 
and  he  now  understood  the  need  by  the  public  of 
artistic  furnishing.  Early  in  the  year  1861  the 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 75 

firm  of  Morris,  Marshall,  Faulkner  and  Company 
— made  up  of  seven  members — was  formed,  with 
the  purpose  of  designing  and  manufacturing  fine 
art  fabrics.  The  circular  sent  out  to  the  public 
announcing  the  work  of  the  company  is  one  of 
the  most  important  documents  in  the  history  of  the 
modern  revival  of  handicraft.  It  reads  in  part  as 
follows : 

“ The  growth  of  decorative  art  in  this  country, 
owing  to  the  efforts  of  English  architects,  has  now 
reached  a point  at  which  it  seems  desirable  that 
artists  of  reputation  should  devote  their  time  to 
it.  Although,  no  doubt,  particular  instances  of 
success  may  be  cited,  still  it  must  be  generally  felt 
that  attempts  of  this  kind  hitherto  have  been  crude 
and  fragmentary.  Up  to  this  time  the  want  of 
that  artistic  supervision  which  can  alone  bring 
about  harmony  between  the  parts  of  a successful 
work  has  been  increased  by  the  necessarily  excess- 
ive outlay,  consequent  on  taking  one  individual 
artist  from  his  pictorial  labors. 

cc  The  artists  whose  names  appear  above  hope 
by  association  to  do  away  with  this  difficulty. 
Having  among  their  number  men  of  varied  quali- 
fications, they  will  be  able  to  undertake  any  species 
of  decoration,  mural  or  otherwise,  from  pictures, 
properly  so-called,  down  to  the  consideration  of 


j6  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

the  smallest  work  susceptible  of  art  beauty.  It  is 
anticipated  that  by  such  co-operation,  the  largest 
amount  of  what  is  essentially  the  artist's  work, 
along  with  his  constant  supervision,  will  be  secured 
at  the  smallest  possible  expense,  while  the  work 
done  must  necessarily  be  of  a much  more  com- 
plete order  than  if  any  single  artist  were  inciden- 
tally employed  in  the  usual  manner. 

“These  artists  having  for  many  years  been  deeply 
attached  to  the  study  of  the  decorative  arts  of  all 
times  and  countries,  have  felt  more  than  most 
people  the  want  of  some  one  place  where  they 
could  either  obtain  or  get  produced  work  of  a 
genuine  and  beautiful  character.  They  have  there- 
fore now  established  themselves  as  a firm  for  the 
production,  by  themselves  and  under  their  super- 
vision, of : 

“ I.  Mural  decoration,  either  in  pictures  or  in 
pattern  work,  or  merely  in  the  arrangement  of 
colors,  as  applied  to  dwelling-houses,  churches, 
or  public  buildings. 

“II.  Carving  generally  as  applied  to  architecture. 

“III.  Stained  glass,  especially  with  reference  to 
its  harmony  with  mural  decoration. 

“ IV.  Metal  work  in  all  its  branches,  including 
jewelry. 

“V.  Furniture,  either  depending  for  its  beauty 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


77 

on  its  own  design,  on  the  application  of  materials 
hitherto  overlooked,  or  on  its  conjunction  with 
figure  and  pattern  painting.  Under  this  head  is 
included  embroidery  of  all  kinds,  stamped  leather, 
and  ornamental  work  in  other  such  materials,  be- 
sides every  article  necessary  for  domestic  use. 

“ It  is  only  requisite  to  state  further  that  work  of 
all  the  above  classes  will  be  estimated  for,  and  ex- 
ecuted in  a business-like  manner ; and  it  is  believed 
that  good  decoration,  involving  rather  the  luxury 
of  taste  than  the  luxury  of  costliness,  will  be  found 
to  be  much  less  expensive  than  is  generally  sup- 
posed.” 

Into  the  work  of  this  manufactory  Morris  en- 
tered with  his  accustomed  energy  and  sagacity. 
He  was  the  practical  manager  of  the  firm’s  busi- 
ness and  did  more  work  himself  than  all  the  other 
“ artists  ” together.  He  was  equipped  for  every 
craft,  even  to  the  stitching  of  embroidery,  and  as 
the  “firm’s  poet  ” wrote  verses  for  tile  decoration. 
The  business  rapidly  developed,  the  demand  for 
stained  glass  windows  and  embroidered  textiles, 
owing  to  the  revival  of  ritualism  and  Catholicism, 
being  considerable.  One  of  Faulkner’s  letters, 
written  in  1862,  gives  a pleasant  picture  of  the 
inner  company  of  workers,  and  indicates  also  some- 
thing of  the  progress  of  the  business  the  first  year: 


7 8 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

cc  Since  Christmas/’  he  wrote,  “ I have  certainly 
been  busy  enough,  what  between  the  business  of 
engineering,  and  our  business  in  Red  Lion  Square. 
Moreover,  Rossetti,  with  remarkable  confidence, 
gave  me  a wood  block  to  engrave,  which  I,  with 
marvelous  boldness,  not  to  say  impudence,  under- 
took to  do,  and  by  jingo  ! I have  done  it,  and  it  is 
published,  and  flattering  friends  say  it  is  not  so 
bad  a beginning.  Our  business  in  the  stained 
glass  and  general  decoration  line  flourishes  so  suc- 
cessfully that  I have  decided  to  give  up  engineer- 
ing and  take  part  in  it;  so  henceforth,  or  rather 
after  a week  or  two,  Topsy  will  give  himself  more 
to  the  artistic  part  of  the  work  while  I shall  be  the 
business  manager.  I don’t  know  whether  you 
have  heard  of  our  firm  before  from  me  or  any  one 
else.  If  not,  I may  just  as  well  tell  you  that  it 
is  composed  of  Brown,  Rossetti,  Jones,  Webb, 
Marshall,  Morris,  Faulkner  ; that  it  commenced 
with  a capital  that  might  be  considered  an  infinites- 
imal of  the  second  order,  that  it  has  meetings 
once  or  twice  a fortnight  which  have  rather  the 
character  of  a meeting  of  the  ‘Jolly  Masons’  or 
the  jolly  something  elses  than  of  a meeting  to  dis- 
cuss business.  Beginning  at  8 or  9 p.  m.  they 
open  with  the  relation  of  anecdotes  which  have 
been  culled  by  members  of  the  firm  since  the  last 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 79 

meeting.  This  store  being  exhausted,  Topsy  and 
Brown  will  perhaps  discuss  the  relative  merits  of 
the  art  of  the  thirteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  and 
then  perhaps  after  a few  more  anecdotes  business 
matters  will  come  up  about  10  or  11  o’clock  and 
be  furiously  discussed  till  12,  1,  or  2. 

cc  Our  firm  has  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  exhibi- 
tion at  the  great  exhibition,  where  we  have  al- 
ready sent  some  stained  glass,  and  shall  shortly 
send  some  furniture,  which  will  doubtless  cause 
the  majority  of  spectators  to  admire.  The  getting 
ready  of  our  things  first  has  caused  more  tribula- 
tion and  swearing  to  Topsy  than  three  exhibitions 
will  be  worth.” 

So  rapidly  indeed  did  their  affairs  increase  that 
in  1865  the  work  of  the  firm  was  carried  to  larger 
quarters  in  Queen  Square,  Bloomsbury.  Morris 
gave  up  the  Red  House  and  came  to  live  in 
London,  the  premises  at  Queen  Square  being  his 
headquarters  for  seventeen  years  thereafter.  In 
1875  the  firm  was  dissolved,  and  reconstituted, 
with  Morris  as  manager  and  Burne-Jones  and 
Webb  as  assistants.  Morris  invested  all  his 
means  in  the  business,  and  depended  upon  it  for 
his  income.  With  greater  opportunities,  and  in- 
spired with  success,  he  pursued  his  labors  with 
unremitting  diligence.  His  restless  fingers  were 


8o  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

fairly  itching  for  work.  After  1870  his  history 
may  fairly  be  divided  into  periods,  according  to 
his  interest  in  new  crafts.  In  1870  he  took  up  the 
art  of  illumination,  and  executed  several  painted 
books,  including  the  “Rubaiyat  of  Omar,”  the 
“Odes  of  Horace,”  and  his  own  “Cupid  and 
Psyche.”  The  Rubaiyat  is  thus  described  by 
Mackail : “ This  manuscript  may  take  rank,  by 

its  elaborate  beauty,  as  one  of  his  chief  master- 
pieces. It  was  finished  on  the  16th  of  October, 
1872,  after  being  a year  and  a half  in  hand.  On 
its  tiny  scale — twenty-three  pages,  measuring  six 
inches  by  three  and  a half — it  is  a volume  of  im- 
mense labor  and  exquisite  workmanship.  On 
eighteen  of  the  pages  the  illumination  is  confined 
to  a central  space  less  than  three  inches  by  two, 
with  a title  in  gold  above  each.  In  that  central 
space,  alongside  and  between  verses,  is  a running 
ornament  of  flowers  and  fruits.  On  the  other  five 
pages  the  margins  are  completely  filled  with  flori- 
ated designs  among  them,  which  are  minute  but 
beautifully  drawn  and  colored  figures,  the  lower 
half  of  the  last  page  being  also  filled  by  a design 
of  two  figures  holding  a scroll.  The  treatment  or 
the  fruit  and  flower  work  is  an  admirable  adapta- 
tion of  an  almost  pre-Raphaelite  naturalism  to  the 
methods  and  limits  of  ornamental  design.” 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


8 1 


Work  in  dyeing  and  weaving  soon  put  a stop  to 
illuminating.  Working  over  the  dye- vat  in  the 
cellar  at  Queen  Square,  and  at  Leek  on  a larger 
scale  with  Mr.  George  Wardle,  he  restored  old 
and  long-lost  methods  of  dyeing.  A few  excerpts 
of  his  notes  give  an  idea  of  his  occupations  in 
1875  : cc  I shall  be  glad  enough  to  get  back  to  the 
dye-house  at  Leek  to-morrow.  I daresay  you 
will  notice  how  bad  my  writing  is;  my  hand  is  so 
shaky  with  doing  journeyman's  work  the  last  few 
days,  delightful  work,  hard  for  the  body  and  easy 
for  the  mind.  For  a great  heap  of  skein-wool  has 
come  for  me,  and  more  is  coming ; and  yesterday 
evening  we  set  our  blue-vat  the  last  thing  before 
coming  here.  I should  have  liked  you  to  see  the 
charm  work  on  it;  we  dyed  a lock  of  wool  bright 
blue  in  it,  and  left  the  liquor  a clear  primrose 
color,  so  all  will  be  ready  for  dyeing  to-morrow  in 
it ; though,  by  the  way,  if  you  are  a dyer,  you 
must  call  it  her.  Meantime  I trust  I am  taking 
in  dyeing  at  every  pore — otherwise  than  by  the 
skin  of  my  hands,  which  is  certain.  I have  found 
out  and  practiced  the  art  of  weld-dyeing,  the 
ancientest  of  yellow  dyes,  and  the  fastest.  We 
have  set  a blue-vat  for  cotton,  which  I hope  will 
turn  out  all  right  to-morrow  morning;  it  is  nine 
feet  deep,  and  holds  one  thousand  gallons;  it 


82  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

would  be  a week’s  talk  to  tell  you  all  the  anxieties 
and  possibilities  connected  with  this  indigo  subject, 
but  you  must  at  least  imagine  that  all  this  is  going 
on  very  nearly  the  same  conditions  as  those  of  the 
shepherd  boy  that  made  a watch  all  by  himself.” 

Having  got  his  dyes  right,  looms  were  set  up 
in  the  top  story  of  the  workshop,  and  weaving  in 
silk  and  wool  went  on  with  great  energy.  On 
moving  to  Hammersmith, in  18785  a tapestry-room 
was  built  into  his  bedroom,  that  he  might  work  at 
the  first  dawn,  and  the  new  house  was  hung  with 
his  own  tapestries.  By  1880  the  carpet  and  rug 
weaving  had  progressed  so  successfully  that  a pub- 
lic exhibition  was  held  at  the  salesroom  in  Oxford 
street,  the  circular  announcing  that  this  was  “ an 
attempt  to  make  England  independent  of  the  East 
for  carpets  which  may  claim  to  be  considered 
works  of  art.” 

“We  believe,”  the  announcement  read,  “that 
the  time  has  come  for  some  one  to  make  that 
attempt,  unless  the  civilized  world  is  prepared 
to  do  without  the  art  of  carpet-making  at  its 
best ; for  it  is  a lamentable  fact  that,  just  when 
we  of  the  West  are  beginning  to  understand 
and  admire  the  art  of  the  East,  that  art  is  fading 
away,  nor  in  any  branch  has  the  deterioration  been 
more  marked  than  in  carpet-making. 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  83 

<c  All  beauty  of  color  has  now  (and  for  long)  dis- 
appeared from  the  manufactures  of  the  Levant — 
the  once  harmonious  and  lovely  Turkey  carpets. 
The  traditions  of  excellence  of  the  Indian  carpets 
are  only  kept  up  by  a few  tasteful  and  energetic 
providers  in  England  with  infinite  trouble  and  at 
a great  expense,  while  the  mass  of  the  goods  are 
already  inferior  in  many  respects  to  what  can  be 
turned  out  mechanically  from  the  looms  of  Glas- 
gow or  Kidderminster. 

“As  for  Persia,  the  mother  of  this  beautiful  art, 
nothing  could  mark  the  contrast  between  the  past 
and  the  present  clearer  than  the  carpets,  doubt- 
less picked  for  excellence  of  manufacture,  given  to 
the  South  Kensington  Museum  by  his  majesty 
the  Shah,  compared  with  the  rough  work  of  the 
tribes  done  within  the  last  hundred  years,  which 
the  directors  of  the  museum  have  judiciously  hung 
near  them. 

“In  short,  the  art  of  carpet-making,  in  common 
with  the  other  special  arts  of  the  East,  is  either 
dead  or  dying  fast;  and  it  is  clear  to  every  one 
that,  whatever  is  in  store  for  those  countries  where 
it  once  flourished,  they  will,  in  time  to  come, 
receive  all  influence  from,  rather  than  give  any 
to,  the  West. 

“ It  seems  to  us,  therefore,  that  for  the  future. 


84  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

we  people  of  the  West  must  make  our  own  hand- 
made carpets,  if  we  are  to  have  any  worth  the 
labor  and  money  such  things  cost ; and  that  these, 
while  they  should  equal  the  Eastern  ones  as  nearly 
as  may  be  in  materials  and  durability,  should  by 
no  means  imitate  them  in  design,  but  show  them- 
selves obviously  to  be  the  outcome  of  modern 
and  Western  ideas,  guided  by  those  principles  that 
underlie  all  architectural  art  in  common.” 

This  document  is  especially  important  as  indi- 
cating that  Morris  was  not  controlled  by  an  un- 
reasoning medievalism,  but  that  he  sought  out 
the  lost  threads  of  the  various  crafts,  and  wher- 
ever an  art  had  reached  its  highest  development, 
there  Morris  directed  his  studies.  It  happened 
that  many  of  the  crafts  were  at  their  best  estate  in 
certain  countries  of  Europe  in  the  early  Middle 
Ages,  but  it  Turkey,  or  Persia,  or  India,  could 
furnish  a better  practical  example  of  any  craft, 
Morris's  “ medievalism  ” did  not  prevent  him 
from  sitting  at  the  feet  of  these  teachers  also.  It 
is  clear,  too,  that  he  was  not  a mere  copyist  of 
ancient  or  foreign  excellencies,  but  that  his  pur- 
pose was  to  discover  the  principles  of  a craft  by 
a study  of  its  best  examples,  and  to  work  there- 
from in  the  modern  spirit. 

In  1881  occurred  the  removal  of  the  manufac- 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  85 

tory  to  Merton  Abbey,  a village  near  the  Thames, 
some  seven  miles  from  Charing  Cross.  The  ad- 
vantages at  this  location  were  far  superior  to  any 
they  had  enjoyed.  The  capacious  sheds  of  dis- 
used print-works,  with  some  modification,  gave 
room  for  designing,  weaving,  and  cloth-printing. 
A living  stream  furnished  water  for  dyeing.  There 
was  space  for  gardens.  The  grounds  were  free 
from  noise  and  dust  and  distraction.  There  were 
birds’  songs  and  the  full  sunshine.  Under  these 
conditions  the  work  of  the  firm  rapidly  developed, 
the  most  important  new  line  undertaken  being 
the  printing  of  cc  chintzes.”  Their  new  circulars 
advertised  twelve  different  kinds  of  work : painted 
glass  windows,  arras  tapestry,  carpets,  embroidery, 
tiles,  furniture,  general  house  decoration,  printed 
cotton  goods,  paper  hangings,  figured  woven  stuffs, 
furniture  velvets  and  cloths,  and  upholstery. 
Aside  from  the  continual  expansion  of  the  work 
already  undertaken  there  is  little  more  to  record 
on  the  side  of  Morris’s  practical  craftsmanship. 
He  had  initiated  a genuine  revival  of  art  industry, 
and  was  now  instrumental  in  forming  a school  of 
designers  and  makers.  And  he  was  still  to  per- 
fect himself  in  the  art  of  printing. 

The  Arts  and  Crafts  Exhibition  Society,  which 
was  started  in  London  in  1888,  may  be  taken  as 


86  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

the  type  of  result  springing  from  the  economic 
teaching  of  Ruskin  and  the  example  of  Morris. 
Artists  working  in  the  decorative  and  applied  fields 
had  been  pressing  for  recognition  at  the  doors  of 
the  Royal  Academy,  but  when  their  claims  were  re- 
fused they  organized  for  separate  exhibition.  Such 
an  exhibition  had  been  suggested  by  Ruskin  as  early 
as  1 87 8,  and  was  now  carried  into  effect  by  the  new 
group  of  craftsmen,  the  most  prominent  of  whom 
were  Walter  Crane,  C.  R.  Ashbee,  T.  J.  Cobden- 
Sanderson,  and  the  Morrises,  but  numbering  alto- 
gether over  a hundred.  The  association  was  first 
known  as  The  Combined  Arts,  but  later,  at  the 
suggestion  of  Mr.  Cobden-Sanderson,  adopted  the 
name  of  Arts  and  Crafts,  as  signifying  more  specifi- 
cally the  union  of  art  and  industry,  for  which  the 
society  stood.  The  exhibitions  of  the  society  have 
increased  yearly  in  value  and  importance,  and  they 
have  now  become  the  most  conspicuous  evidence 
of  the  modern  revival  of  handicraft.  The  vol- 
umes of  essays  upon  the  crafts  which  the  society 
has  published  contain  the  most  advanced  technical 
instruction  in  the  applied  arts  to  be  found  in  Eng- 
lish. The  papers  by  Morris  represent  his  final 
thought  upon  the  crafts  he  practiced,  and  contain 
his  last  protest  against  the  “reckless  waste  of 
life  in  the  pursuit  of  the  means  of  life,”  which  the 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 87 

current  system  of  economy  had  countenanced. 
Walter  Crane,  acting  as  spokesman  of  the  society, 
expresses  his  belief  that  the  true  root  and  basis  of 
all  art  lies  in  the  handicrafts.  “ If  there  is  no  room 
or  chance  of  recognition,”  he  argues,  “ for  really 
artistic  power  and  feeling  in  design  and  craftsman- 
ship-— if  art  is  not  recognized  in  the  humblest 
object  and  material,  and  felt  to  be  as  valuable  in 
its  own  way  as  the  more  highly  rewarded  pictorial 
skill — the  arts  cannot  be  in  a sound  condition ; 
and  if  artists  cease  to  be  found  among  the  crafts, 
there  is  great  danger  that  they  will  vanish  from 
the  arts  also,  and  become  manufacturers  and  sales- 
men instead.” 

The  last  art  which  Morris  essayed  to  master 
was  that  of  printing.  His  interest  in  printing 
dates  back  to  1867,  when  he  attempted  to  issue 
<c  The  Earthly  Paradise”  in  costly  form  and  failed 
from  the  difficulty  of  getting  satisfactory  printing 
and  illustration.  Now  that  he  was  writing  again, 
and  his  zest  for  socialism  being  on  the  wane,  he 
wanted  to  issue  “The  House  of  theWolfings” 
and  “ The  Roots  of  the  Mountain  ” in  attractive 
typography  and  took  up  once  more  the  study  of 
type  and  book-making  in  all  its  modes.  For  a 
time  his  work  in  connection  with  the  Kelmscott 
Press,  which  was  established  in  1891,  took  him 


88  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

away  from  all  other  crafts.  The  letter  he  wanted, 
he  tells  us,  was  “ pure  in  form ; severe,  without 
needless  excrescences ; solid,  without  the  thicken- 
ing and  thinning  of  the  line  which  is  the  essential 
fault  of  the  ordinary  modern  type,  and  which 
makes  it  difficult  to  read ; and  not  compressed 
laterally,  as  all  later  type  has  grown  to  be,  owing 
to  commercial  exigencies.”  He  found  the  per- 
fected Roman  type  in  the  printing  of  Nicholas 
Jenson,  one  of  the  Venetian  printers  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  and  upon  this  type  he  based  his  own.  In 
all  he  constructed  three  new  types.  He  drew 
practically  all  the  letters,  stops,  initials,  borders, 
and  ornaments  which  were  used  in  his  book-mak- 
ing. The  Press  continued  for  seven  years,  and  in 
that  time  fifty-two  works  in  sixty-six  volumes 
were  issued.  In  every  respect — as  printer,  binder, 
and  publisher — Morris  advanced  the  art  and  craft 
of  the  book.  Certainly  his  great  Chaucer,  finished 
just  before  his  death,  after  more  than  three  years 
of  labor,  is  one  of  the  most  notable  books  of  the 
world. 

“At  the  beginning  of  1895,”  Mackail  says, 
“ Morris  was  carrying  on  all  his  multifarious  occu- 
pations with  unimpaired  activity.  Two  presses 
were  at  work  upon  the  Chaucer,  and  a third  on 
smaller  books.  He  was  designing  new  paper 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 89 

hangings;  he  was  going  on  daily  with  the  writing 
of  new  romances ; he  was  completing,  in  col- 
laboration with  Mr.  Magnusson,  the  translation 
of  the  “Heimskringla,”  which  they  had  begun 
some  three  and  twenty  years  before,  and  seeing 
it  through  the  press  for  the  Saga  library ; and  he 
was  busily  increasing  the  collection  of  illuminated 
manuscripts,  chiefly  of  the  thirteenth  and  four- 
teenth centuries,  which  toward  the  end  of  his  life 
became  his  chief  treasures  and  gave  him  extraor- 
dinary delight.” 

The  socialism  that  lay  at  the  base  of  Morris’s 
handicraft  may  now  be  set  forth.  An  implicit 
socialism  may  be  understood  as  always  abiding  at 
the  heart  of  his  life.  Exclusive  and  aristocratic 
though  he  was  in  his  early  youth,  there  was  ever 
the  larger  sense  for  unity,  and  like  Ruskin  in  simi- 
lar circumstances,  he  yearned  for  social  contact. 
The  first  manifestation  of  a community  spirit  was 
at  the  formation  by  the  young  men  of  Morris’s 
group  at  Oxford  of  the  Brotherhood,  conceived 
in  the  beginning  as  a semi-monastic  order,  devoted 
to  the  higher  life,  but  gradually  changing  to  a 
social  crusade  against  the  age,  with  Carlyle  and 
Ruskin  as  their  accepted  leaders.  During  the 
year  1856  the  Brotherhood  published  the  Ox- 
ford and  Cambridge  Magazine , which  was  in- 


90  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

tended  to  be  the  organ  of  the  new  thought. 
Ruskin  promised  something  for  its  columns,  but 
Morris  was  the  chief  contributor  and  its  financial 
support.  The  essays  were  of  a literary  and  social 
nature,  but  there  was  little  grasp  of  the  realities 
of  the  social  problem.  When  Morris  left  Ox- 
ford for  the  architect's  office  the  magazine  lan- 
guished, and  was  not  issued  a second  year.  The 
Oxford  Brotherhood  came  to  its  real  fulfilment 
in  the  business  firm  of  Morris,  Marshall,  Faulk- 
ner and  Company,  which  was  in  a rather  vague 
way  socialistic  in  its  motive,  certainly  ideal 
in  its  tendency.  The  work  of  the  manufac- 
tory was  carried  on  in  protest  against  the  cur- 
rent economic  and  business  methods  of  the 
day.  In  the  first  place,  Morris  made  goods, 
not  because  he  wanted  to  make  money,  but  be- 
cause he  wanted  to  do  the  thing  he  was  doing. 
He  would  not  waste  life  in  getting  the  means 
for  living.  He  would  take  pleasure  in  his  work, 
and  make  goods  that  were  serviceable  to  others. 
Above  all,  he  stood  for  the  integrity  of  work,  and 
would  not  himself  make  a design  he  could  not 
execute,  or  with  reference  to  materials  he  did  not 
know.  In  one  of  his  lectures  he  drew  the  pic- 
ture of  an  ideal  craftsman  who  should  put  his 
individual  intelligence  and  enthusiasm  into  the 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


91 


goods  he  fashions.  “ So  far  from  his  labor  being 
divided,  which  is  the  technical  phrase  for  his  al- 
ways doing  one  minute  piece  of  work  and  never 
being  allowed  to  think  of  any  other — so  far  from 
that,  he  must  know  all  about  the  ware  he  is 
making  and  its  relation  to  other  wares ; he  must 
have  a natural  aptitude  for  his  work  so  strong 
that  no  education  can  force  him  away  from  his 
special  bent.  He  must  be  allowed  to  think  of 
what  he  is  doing,  and  to  vary  his  work  as  the 
circumstances  of  it  vary  and  his  own  moods.  He 
must  be  forever  striving  to  make  the  piece  he  is 
at  work  at  better  than  the  last.  He  must  refuse, 
at  anybody's  bidding,  to  turn  out,  I won't  say  a 
bad,  but  even  an  indifferent,  piece  of  work,  what- 
ever the  public  want,  or  think  they  want.  He 
must  have  a voice  worth  listening  to  in  the  whole 
affair."  Until  a state  of  society  existed  such  that 
a workman  could  enjoy  the  privilege  of  artistic 
work,  there  could  be  no  permanency  in  the  social 
order.  For  himself,  he  wanted  “money  enough 
to  keep  him  from  fear  of  want  or  degradation  for 
him  and  his;  leisure  enough  from  bread-earning 
work  to  give  him  time  to  read  and  think  and  con- 
nect his  own  life  with  the  life  of  the  great  world; 
work  enough  and  praise  of  it,  and  encouragement 
enough  to  make  him  feel  good  friends  with  his 


92  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

fellows;  and  his  own  due  share  of  art,  the  chief 
part  of  which  will  be  a dwelling  that  does  not  lack 
the  beauty  which  Nature  would  freely  allow  it,  if 
our  own  perversity  did  not  turn  Nature  out  of 
doors.”  Inevitably  the  work  he  was  doing  forced 
him  to  think  of  the  conditions  of  labor  in  the 
capitalistic  regime,  yet  for  twenty  years — or  from 
about  i860  to  1880 — he  saw  no  way  of  effecting 
revolution  save  by  example.  He  was  content  to 
labor  in  his  own  field,  in  his  own  way,  choosing 
poetry  as  one  means  of  expression  and  craftsman- 
ship as  another.  In  politics  he  would  be  described 
as  a Liberal,  but  passive  in  his  attitude.  But  in 
1877  Morris  was  listening  to  the  call  to  larger 
social  service.  That  year  he  was  instrumental  in 
forming  two  social  organizations,  one  the  Society 
for  the  Protection  of  Ancient  Buildings,  out  of 
his  interest  in  which  grew  his  active  instruction  in 
art,  and  the  other  the  Eastern  Question  Associa- 
tion, a devotion  to  which  led  to  his  militant 
socialism. 

On  the  fifth  of  March,  1877,  Morris  wrote  to 
the  Athenaeum  the  following  letter : 

“My  eye  just  now  caught  the  word  Restoration  * 
in  the  morning  paper,  and  on  looking  closer,  I saw 
that  this  time  it  is  nothing  less  than  the  Minster  of 
Tewksbury  that  is  to  be  destroyed  by  Sir  Gilbert 


Morris  and  His  Plea. 


93 


Scott.  Is  it  altogether  too  late  to  do  something 
to  save  it— it  and  whatever  else  of  beautiful  and 
historical  is  still  left  us  on  the  sites  of  the  ancient 
buildings  we  were  once  so  famous  for?  Would  it 
not  be  of  some  use  once  for  all,  and  with  the  least 
possible  delay,  to  set  on  foot  an  association  for  the 
purpose  of  watching  over  and  protecting  these 
relics,  which,  scanty  as  they  are  now  become,  are 
still  wonderful  treasures,  all  the  more  priceless  in 
this  age  of  the  world,  when  the  newly  invented 
study  of  living  history  is  the  chief  joy  of  so  many 
of  our  lives? 

“Your  paper  has  so  steadily  and  courageously 
opposed  itself  to  these  acts  of  barbarism  which 
the  modern  architect,  parson,  and  squire  call 
c restoration/  that  it  would  be  waste  of  words 
to  enlarge  here  on  the  ruin  that  has  been  wrought 
by  their  hands ; but  for  the  saving  of  what  is  left, 
I think  I may  write  a word  of  encouragement,  and 
say  that  you  by  no  means  stand  alone  in  the  mat- 
ter, and  that  there  are  many  thoughtful  people 
who  would  be  glad  to  sacrifice  time,  money,  and 
comfort  in  defense  of  those  ancient  monuments ; 
besides,  though  I admit  that  the  architects  are, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  hopeless,  because  their 
order,  habit,  and  an  ignorance  yet  grosser,  bind 
them  ; still  there  must  be  many  people  whose 


94  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

ignorance  is  accidental  rather  than  inveterate, 
whose  good  sense  could  surely  be  touched  if  it 
were  clearly  put  to  them  that  they  were  destroying 
what  they,  or,  more  surely  still,  their  sons  and 
sons'  sons,  would  one  day  fervently  long  for,  and 
which  no  wealth  or  energy  could  ever  buy  again 
for  them. 

“ What  I wish  for,  therefore,  is  that  an  association 
should  be  set  on  foot  to  keep  a watch  on  old  mon- 
uments, to  protest  against  all  c restoration  ’ that 
means  more  than  keeping  out  wind  and  weather, 
and  by  all  means,  literary  and  other,  to  awaken  a 
feeling  that  our  ancient  buildings  are  not  mere 
ecclesiastical  toys,  but  sacred  monuments  of  the 
nation's  growth  and  hope." 

On  the  organization  of  the  society  Morris  was 
chosen  secretary  and  so  called  upon  to  write  its 
statement  of  principles. 

“Within  the  last  fifty  years  a new  interest, 
almost  like  another  sense,  has  arisen  in  these 
ancient  monuments  of  art ; and  they  have  become 
the  subject  of  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  studies, 
and  of  an  enthusiasm,  religious,  historical,  artistic, 
which  is  one  of  the  undoubted  gains  of  our  time ; 
yet  we  think  that  if  the  present  treatment  of  them 
be  continued,  our  descendants  will  find  them  use- 
less for  study  and  chilling  for  enthusiasm.  We 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 95 

think  that  those  last  fifty  years  of  knowledge  and 
attention  have  done  more  for  their  destruction  than 
all  the  foregoing  centuries  of  revolution,  violence, 
and  contempt. 

“ For  architecture,  long  decaying,  died  out,  as  a 
popular  art  at  least,  just  as  the  knowledge  of 
mediaeval  art  was  born.  So  that  the  civilized 
world  of  the  nineteenth  century  has  no  styles  of 
its  own  amidst  its  wide  knowledge  of  the  styles  of 
other  centuries.  From  this  lack  and  this  gain 
arose  in  men’s  minds  the  strange  idea  of  the  res- 
toration of  ancient  buildings ; and  a strange  and 
most  fatal  idea,  which  by  its  very  name  implies 
that  it  is  possible  to  strip  from  a building  this, 
that,  and  the  other  part  of  its  history — of  its  life, 
that  is — and  then  to  stay  the  hand  at  some  arbitrary 
point,  and  leave  it  still  historical,  living,  and  even 
as  it  once  was. 

<cIn  early  times  this  kind  of  forgery  was  impos- 
sible, because  knowledge  failed  the  builders,  or 
perhaps  because  instinct  held  them  back.  If  re- 
pairs were  needed,  if  ambition  or  piety  pricked  on 
to  change,  that  change  was  of  necessity  wrought 
in  the  unmistakable  fashion  of  the  time ; a church 
of  the  eleventh  century  might  be  added  to  or 
altered  in  the  twelfth,  thirteenth,  fourteenth, 
fifteenth,  sixteenth,  or  even  the  seventeenth  and 


96  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

eighteenth  centuries  ; but  every  change,  whatever 
the  history  it  destroyed,  left  history  in  the  gap, 
and  was  alive  with  the  spirit  of  the  deeds  done 
amidst  its  fashioning.  The  result  of  all  this  was 
often  a building  in  which  many  changes,  though 
harsh  and  visible  enough,  were  by  their  very  con- 
trast interesting  and  instructive,  and  could  by  no 
possibility  mislead.  But  those  who  make  the 
changes  wrought  in  our  day  under  the  name  of 
restoration,  while  professing  to  bring  back  a build- 
ing to  the  best  time  of  its  history,  have  no  guide 
but  each  his  own  individual  whim  to  point 
out  to  them  what  is  admirable  and  what  con- 
temptible ; while  the  very  nature  of  their  task 
compels  them  to  destroy  something,  and  to  sup- 
ply the  gap  by  imagining  what  the  earlier  builders 
should  or  might  have  done.  Moreover,  in  the 
course  of  this  double  process  of  destruction  and 
addition,  the  whole  surface  of  the  building  is 
necessarily  tampered  with,  so  that  the  appearance 
of  antiquity  is  taken  away  from  such  old  parts 
of  the  fabric  as  are  left,  and  there  is  no  laying 
to  rest  in  the  spectator  the  suspicion  of  what 
may  have  been  lost ; and  in  short,  a feeble  and 
lifeless  forgery  is  the  final  result  of  all  the  wasted 
labor. 

“ Of  all  the  restorations  yet  undertaken  the  worst 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 97 

have  meant  the  reckless  stripping  a building  of 
some  of  its  most  interesting  material  features ; 
while  the  best  have  their  exact  analogy  in  the 
restoration,  of  an  old  picture,  where  the  partly 
perished  work  of  the  ancient  craftsmaster  has 
been  made  neat  and  smooth  by  the  tricky  hand 
of  some  unoriginal  and  thoughtless  hack  of  to-day. 
If,  for  the  rest,  it  may  be  asked  us  to  specify  what 
kind  or  amount  of  art,  style,  or  other  interest  in 
a building,  make  it  worth  protecting,  we  answer: 
Anything  which  can  be  looked  on  as  artistic,  pic- 
turesque, historical,  antique,  or  substantial;  any 
work,  in  short,  over  which  educated  people  would 
think  it  worth  while  to  argue  at  all. 

“It  is  for  all  these  buildings,  therefore,  of  all 
times  and  styles,  that  we  plead,  and  call  upon  those 
who  have  to  deal  with  them,  to  put  protection  in  the 
place  of  restoration,  to  stave  off  decay  by  daily 
care,  to  prop  a perilous  wall  or  mend  a leaky  roof 
by  such  means  as  are  obviously  meant  for  support 
or  covering,  and  show  no  pretense  of  other  art, 
and  otherwise  to  resist  all  tampering  with  either 
the  fabric  or  ornament  of  the  building  as  it  stands  ; 
and  if  it  has  become  inconvenient  for  its  present 
use  to  raise  another  building  rather  than  alter  or 
enlarge  the  old  one ; in  fine,  to  treat  our  ancient 
buildings  as  monuments  of  a bygone  art,  created 


98  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

by  bygone  manners,  that  modern  art  cannot  med- 
dle with  without  destroying.” 

His  most  active  propaganda  for  this  society  was 
carried  on  in  1880,  when  it  was  learned  that  sweep- 
ing restorations  were  in  progress  at  St.  Marks, 
Venice.  Morris  wrote  and  spoke  unceasingly  in 
protest  against  the  proposed  demolition,  the  cause 
taking  him  to  Oxford  to  appear  there  for  the  first 
time  in  a public  capacity.  He  felt  real  heart  sor- 
row at  the  loss  that  seemed  eminent — the  loss  “of 
a work  of  art,  a monument  of  history,  and  a piece 
of  nature.”  “ That  the  outward  aspect  of  the 
world,”  he  reflected  sadly,  “should  grow  uglier 
day  by  day  in  spite  of  the  aspirations  of  civiliza- 
tion, nay,  partly  because  of  its  triumphs,  is  a 
grievous  puzzle  to  some  of  us  who  are  lacking 
in  sympathy  for  those  aspirations  and  triumphs, 
artists  and  craftsmen  as  we  are.  So  grievous  it  is 
that  sometimes  we  are  tempted  to  say,  £ Let  them 
make  a clean  sweep  of  it  all  then ; let  us  forget  it 
all,  and  muddle  on  as  best  we  may,  unencum- 
bered with  either  history  or  hope ! * But  such 
despair  is,  we  all  know,  a treason  to  the  cause  of 
civilization  and  the  arts,  and  we  do  our  best  to 
overcome  it,  and  to  strengthen  ourselves  in  the 
belief  that  even  a small  minority  will  at  last  be 
listened  to,  and  its  reasonable  opinions  be  ac- 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


99 


cepted.”  A little  later,  when  he  was  getting  little 
comfort  out  of  the  “ Anti-Scrape  ” endeavor,  he 
describes  the  cause  as  little  better  than  hopeless : 
“We  have  begun  too  late,  and  our  foes  are  too 
many;  videlicet,  almost  all  people,  educated  and 
uneducated.  No,  as  to  the  buildings  themselves, 
’t  is  a lost  cause ; in  fact,  the  destruction  is  not  far 
from  being  complete  already.  What  people  say 
to  themselves  is  this  : £ I don’t  like  the  thing  being 
done,  but  I can  bear  it,  maybe— or  certainly,  when 
I come  to  think  of  it,  and  to  stir  in  it  is  such 
obvious  suffering;  so  I won’t  stir.’  Certainly  to 
take  that  trouble  in  any  degree  it  is  needful  that 
a man  should  be  touched  with  a real  love  of  the 
earth,  a worship  of  it,  no  less;  and  I think  that 
as  things  go,  that  is  seldom  felt  except  by  very 
simple  people,  and  by  them,  as  would  be  likely, 
dimly  enough.  You  know  the  most  refined  and 
cultured  people,  both  those  of  the  old  religions 
and  those  of  the  new,  vague  ones,  have  a sort  of 
Manichean  hatred  of  the  world  (I  use  the  word 
in  its  proper  sense,  the  home  of  man).  Such 
people  must  be  both  the  enemies  of  beauty  and 
the  slaves  of  necessity,  and  true  it  is  that  they 
lead  the  world  at  present,  and  I believe  will  do, 
till  all  that  is  old  is  gone,  and  history  has  become 
a book  from  which  the  pictures  have  been  torn. 


ioo  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

Now  if  you  ask  me  why  I kick  against  the  pricks 
in  this  matter,  all  I can  say  is,  first,  because  I can- 
not help  it,  and  secondly,  because  I am  encouraged 
by  a sort  of  faith  that  something  will  come  of  it, 
some  kind  of  culture  of  which  we  know  nothing  * 
as  present.” 

Notwithstanding  his  discouragements,  Morris 
persisted  in  preaching  this  lesson  of  the  beauty  of 
the  earth  and  of  man  to  the  end  of  his  days,  and 
in  his  feelings  toward  the  earth  and  man’s  historic 
monuments  we  may  find  the  ground  of  much  of 
his  socialism. 

The  object  of  the  second  organization  Morris 
was  interested  in  at  the  beginning  of  his  active 
socialism  was  to  prevent  the  war  in  the  East. 
Morris  was  again  chosen  to  write  the  manifesto 
for  the  society,  and  addressing  “ the  workingmen 
of  England,”  used  these  words  : 

“ Workingmen  of  England,  one  word  of  warn- 
ing yet  : I doubt  if  you  know  the  bitterness  of 
hatred  against  freedom  and  progress  that  lies  at 
the  heart  of  the  richer  classes  in  this  country ; 
their  newspapers  veil  it  in  a kind  of  decent  lan- 
guage ; but  do  but  hear  them  talking  among 
themselves,  as  I have  often  done,  and  I know  not 
whether  scorn  or  anger  would  prevail  in  you  at 
their  folly  and  insolence.  These  men  cannot 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


IOI 


speak  of  your  order,  of  its  aims,  of  its  leaders, 
without  a sneer  or  an  insult ; these  men,  if  they 
had  the  power  (may  England  perish  rather  !),  would 
thwart  your  just  aspirations,  would  silence  you, 
would  deliver  you  bound  hand  and  foot  forever 
to  irresponsible  capital.  Fellow  citizens,  look  to 
it,  and  if  you  have  any  wrongs  to  be  redressed,  if 
you  cherish  your  most  worthy  hope  of  raising 
your  whole  order  peacefully  and  solidly,  if  you 
thirst  for  leisure  and  knowledge,  if  you  long  to 
lessen  these  inequalities  which  have  been  our  stum- 
bling block  since  the  beginning  of  the  world,  then 
cast  aside  sloth  and  cry  out  against  an  unjust  war, 
and  urge  us  of  the  middle  classes  to  do  no  less.” 
Before  an  Exeter  Hall  audience  gathered  to 
protest  against  the  government,  Morris  made  his 
first  appearance  as  a writer  of  political  verse,  with 
a ballad,  entitled  cc  Wake,  London  Lads,”  antici- 
pating there  the  later  u Chants  for  Socialists.” 

In  1877  Mori*is  became  treasurer  of  the  National 
Liberal  League,  an  organization  made  up  of 
workingmen  in  opposition  to  the  Eastern  policy 
of  the  government,  but  when  a later  election  placed 
the  Liberal  party  in  power,  and  Morris  saw  that 
hope  rested  in  neither  Tory  nor  Whig,  he  with- 
drew from  party  lines  and  worked  for  the  actual 
reconstruction  of  society. 


102  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

In  December  of  the  same  year,  1877 — t^le  Year 
that  marks  the  beginning  of  Morris’s  widening 
social  interests — he  delivered  his  first  lecture  on 
the  decorative  arts  before  the  Trades  Guild  of 
Learning,  and  published  immediately  in  pamphlet 
form,  the  essay  became  his  first  prose  contribution 
to  socialistic  literature.  This  essay  (afterward  re- 
printed in  the  volume  entitled  “ Hopes  and  Fears 
for  Art,”  under  the  head  of  “The  Lesser  Arts”) 
contains  some  pregnant  sentences  relative  to  his 
social  hopes  and  motives.  He  was  here  speaking 
to  craftsmen,  and  he  addressed  them  familiarly  and 
with  deep  feeling,  lamenting  the  decay  of  art,  but 
hoping  for  its  revival  again  under  better  social 
conditions.  The  decay  of  the  lesser  arts,  the  arts, 
that  is,  of  use,  had  come  about  through  the  with- 
drawal of  the  fine  artist  from  the  field  of  handi- 
craft and  his  attachment  to  the  leisure  classes.  As 
the  arts  sundered  into  the  greater  and  the  lesser, 
contempt  was  begotten  on  one  side  and  ignorance 
on  the  other.  The  artist  left  the  craftsman  with- 
out hope  of  elevation  ; he  himself  was  left  without 
the  help  of  intelligent  sympathy.  Both  classes 
have  suffered,  but  the  workman  more  than  the 
artist.  Commerce  also  has  fallen  more  heavily 
upon  the  craftsman  than  upon  the  artist ; he  has 
been  forced  into  the  field  of  competition,  a com- 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 103 

petition  not  of  excellence,  but  of  cheapness,  and 
the  things  he  makes  are  veritably  “cheap  and 
nasty,”  and  as  they  were  without  pleasure  to  the 
maker,  so  they  give  no  pleasure  to  the  user. 
“ Decoration,”  Morris  said,  “ is  the  expression  of 
man’s  pleasure  in  successful  labor.”  Its  office  is 
two-fold  : “To  give  people  pleasure  in  the  things 
they  must  perforce  use,”  and  “ to  give  people 
pleasure  in  the  things  they  must  perforce  make.” 
That  his  mind  was  turning  to  the  deeper  social 
problem  and  becoming  convinced  that  nothing 
less  than  a revolution  in  the  modes  of  life  was 
necessary,  is  evidenced  by  an  impassioned  passage 
in  this  address  : “ Sirs,  I believe  that  art  has  such 
sympathy  with  cheerful  freedom,  open-heartedness, 
and  reality;  so  much  she  sickens  under  selfishness 
and  luxury,  that  she  will  not  live  thus  isolated  and 
exclusive.  I will  go  further  and  say  that  on  such 
terms  I do  not  wish  her  to  live.  I do  not  want 
art  for  a few,  any  more  than  education  for  a few, 
or  freedom  for  a few.  No,  rather  than  art  should 
live  this  poor,  thin  life  among  a few  exceptional 
men,  despising  those  beneath  them  for  an  ignorance 
for  which  they  themselves  are  responsible,  for  a 
brutality  that  they  will  not  struggle  with — rather 
than  this,  I would  that  the  world  should  indeed 
sweep  away  all  art  for  a while,  as  I said  before  I 


1 04  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

thought  it  possible  she  might  do;  rather  than  the 
wheat  should  rot  in  the  miser's  granary,  I would 
that  the  earth  had  it,  that  it  might  yet  have  a 
chance  to  quicken  in  the  dark." 

Another  address,  in  1881,  on  “Art  and  the 
Beauty  of  the  Earth,"  is  well  said  to  be  the  “sum 
of  all  his  earlier  and  the  germ  of  all  his  later  doc- 
trines." With  that  complete  historic  knowledge 
which  characterizes  all  his  writings,  he  distin- 
guished between  the  times  that  cultivated  art  and 
those  that  neglected  it.  In  the  early  Middle  Ages, 
in  the  midst  of  much  confusion  and  barbarism,  he 
detected  the  trend  of  popular  art : “ Art  was  no 

longer,  as  in  Egypt  of  olden  time,  kept  rigidly 
within  certain  prescribed  bounds  that  no  fancy 
might  play  with,  no  imagination  overpass,  lest  the 
majesty  of  the  beautiful  symbols  might  be  clouded 
and  the  memory  of  the  awful  mysteries  they  sym- 
bolized become  dim  in  the  hearts  of  men.  Nor 
was  it  any  longer  as  in  the  Greece  of  Pericles, 
wherein  no  thought  might  be  expressed  that  could 
not  be  expressed  in  perfect  form.  Art  was  free. 
Whatever  a man  thought  of,  that  he  might  bring 
to  light,  by  the  labor  of  his  hands,  to  be  praised 
and  wondered  at  by  his  fellows.  Whatever  man 
had  thought  in  him  of  any  kind,  and  skill  in  him 
of  any  kind  to  express  it,  he  was  deemed  good 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


io5 


enough  to  be  used  for  his  own  pleasure  and  the 
pleasure  of  his  fellows;  in  this  art  nothing  and 
nobody  was  wasted.”  The  decay  of  art  began  with 
the  artists  of  the  Renaissance,  who  lent  their  ener- 
gies to  the  severance  of  art  from  the  daily  life  of 
men,  and  left  art  sterile  and  life  pleasureless.  cc  I 
do  not  mean  to  say,”  Morris  went  on,  “ that  all 
the  work  we  do  now  is  done  without  any  pleasure, 
but  I mean  to  say  that  the  pleasure  is  rather  that 
of  conquering  a good  spell  of  work — a courageous 
and  good  feeling,  certai  nly — or  of  bearing  up  well 
under  the  burden,  and  seldom,  very  seldom,  comes 
to  the  pitch  of  compelling  the  workman,  out  of 
the  fullness  of  his  heart,  to  impress  on  the  work 
itself  the  tokens  of  his  manly  pleasure.  Nor  will 
our  system  of  organizing  the  work  allow  of  it.  In 
most  cases  there  is  no  sympathy  between  the  de- 
signer and  the  man  who  carries  out  the  design ; 
not  unseldom  the  designer  also  is  driven  to  work 
in  a mechanical,  down-hearted  kind  of  way,  and  I 
don’t  wonder  at  it.  I know  by  experience  that 
the  making  of  design  after  design,  mere  diagrams, 
mind  you,  without  one’s  self  executing  them,  is  a 
great  strain  upon  the  mind.  It  is  necessary,  unless 
all  workmen  of  all  grades  are  to  be  permanently 
degraded  into  machines,  that  the  hand  should  rest 
the  mind  as  well  as  the  mind  the  hand.  And  I 


io6  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

say  that  this  is  the  kind  of  work  which  the  world 
has  lost,  supplying  its  place  with  the  work  which 
is  the  result  of  the  division  of  labor.  That  work, 
whatever  else  it  can  do,  cannot  produce  art,  which 
must,  as  long  as  the  present  system  lasts,  be  en- 
tirely confined  to  such  works  as  are  the  work  from 
beginning  to  end  of  one  man.” 

To  the  same  system  belongs  the  machine.  It 
is  possible  that  nearly  everything  needed  by  man 
can  be  made  by  machinery.  “ I myself,”  Morris 
said,  “have  boundless  faith  in  their  capacity.  I 
believe  machines  can  do  everything  except  make 
works  of  art.”  There  is  not,  then,  in  the  machine, 
any  dependency  for  solace ; the  curse  will  still 
cling  to  labor.  Morris's  advice  to  the  potters  he 
was  addressing  is  eminently  sane:  “Set  yourself 
as  much  as  possible  against  all  machine  work. 
Don't  let  yourselves  be  made  machines,  or  it  is 
all  up  with  you  as  artists.  Though  I don't  much 
love  the  iron  and  brass  machines,  the  flesh  and 
blood  ones  are  more  terrible  and  hopeless  to  me ; 
no  man  is  so  clumsy  or  base  a workman  that  he  is 
not  fit  for  something  better  than  that.” 

The  second  clause  in  Morris's  indictment  of  his 
times  referred  to  the  ugliness  of  the  environment: 
cc  Of  all  the  things  that  are  likely  to  give  us  back 
popular  art  in  England,  the  cleaning  of  England 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  107 

is  the  first  and  most  necessary.  Those  who  are 
to  make  beautiful  things  must  live  in  a beautiful 
place.  Some  people  may  be  inclined  to  say,  and 
I have  heard  the  argument  put  forward,  that  the 
very  opposition  between  the  serenity  and  purity 
of  art,  and  the  turmoil  and  squalor  of  a great 
modern  city  stimulates  the  invention  of  artists, 
and  produces  special  life  in  the  art  of  to-day. 
I cannot  believe  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  at  the 
best  it  but  stimulates  the  feverish  and  dreamy 
qualities  that  throw  some  artists  out  of  the  gen- 
eral sympathy.  I abide  by  my  statement  that 
those  who  are  to  make  beautiful  things  must 
live  in  beautiful  places.  There  is  no  square  mile 
of  the  earth's  surface  that  is  not  beautiful  in  its 
own  way  if  we  men  will  only  abstain  from  will- 
fully destroying  that  beauty;  and  it  is  this  reason- 
able share  in  the  beauty  of  the  earth  that  I claim 
as  the  right  of  every  man  who  will  earn  it  by 
due  labor;  a decent  house  with  decent  surround- 
ings for  every  honest  and  industrious  family;  that 
is  the  claim  I make  of  you  in  the  name  of  art." 

By  1881  Morris  had  fully  conceived  the  na- 
ture of  the  “Cause."  He  felt  the  discords  of  his 
time;  he  offered  the  solution  of  popular  art, 
and  desired  that  all  men  should  feel  the  beauty 
of  the  earth.  Examining  now  the  volume  entitled 


108  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

“ Hopes  and  Fears  for  Art,”  published  in  1882, 
in  aid  of  the  fund  for  the  Society  for  the  Pro- 
tection of  Ancient  Buildings,  we  will  find  the 
half-dozen  maxims  that  pertain  to  ideal  conduct. 
The  titles  of  the  essays  are  “ The  Lesser  Arts,” 
“ The  Art  of  the  People,”  “ The  Beauty  of  Life,” 
“ Making  the  Best  of  It,”  “The  Prospects  of  Ar- 
chitecture in  Civilization.”  They  were  earnest 
addresses,  delivered  probably  with  a note  of  sad- 
ness. His  first  insistence  was  that  art  is  a serious 
thing,  and  not  to  be  dissociated  from  the  weighty 
matters  that  occupy  the  thoughts  of  men.  “That 
the  beauty  of  life  is  a thing  of  no  moment,”  he  said, 
“ I suppose  few  people  would  venture  to  assert, 
and  yet  most  civilized  people  act  as  if  it  were 
of  none,  and  in  so  doing  are  wronging  both  them- 
selves and  those  that  are  to  come  after  them; 
for  that  beauty,  which  is  what  is  meant  by  art, 
using  that  word  in  its  widest  sense,  is,  I contend, 
no  mere  accident  to  human  life,  which  people 
can  take  or  leave  as  they  choose,  but  a positive 
necessity  of  life,  if  we  are  to  live  as  nature  meant 
us  to;  that  is,  unless  we  are  content  to  be  less 
than  men.” 

His  main  maxim  concerning  labor  is  worded 
thus:  “No  work  which  cannot  be  done  with- 

out pleasure  in  the  doing  is  worth  doing.”  And 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  109 

the  truth  of  this  was  the  experience  of  his  own 
life.  Turning  over  the  opposite  maxim  that 
“No  man  would  work  unless  he  hoped  by 
working  to  earn  leisure,”  he  thought  the  hope 
of  leisure  a poor  bribe  to  labor,  if  labor  was  un- 
derstood to  be  a curse.  C£  I tried  to  think  what 
would  happen  to  me  if  I were  forbidden  my  ordi- 
nary daily  work;  and  I knew  I should  die  of  de- 
spair and  weariness,  unless  I could  straightway 
take  to  something  else  which  I could  make  my 
daily  work ; and  it  was  clear  to  me  that  I worked 
not  in  the  least  in  the  world  for  the  sake  of  earn- 
ing leisure  by  it,  but  partly  driven  by  the  fear 
of  starvation  or  disgrace,  and  partly,  and  even 
a very  great  deal,  because  I love  the  work  itself; 
and  as  for  my  leisure,  well  I had  to  confess  that 
part  of  it  I do  indeed  spend  as  a dog  does  — 
in  contemplation,  let  us  say  — and  like  it  well 
enough;  but  part  of  it  also  I spend  in  work, 
which  work  gives  me  just  as  much  pleasure  as 
my  bread-earning  work  — neither  more  nor  less 
— and  therefore  could  be  no  bribe  or  hope  for 
my  work-a-day  hours.”  And  in  another  address 
he  cried  out:  “If  I were  to  work  ten  hours 

a day  at  work  I despised  and  hated,  I should 
spend  my  leisure  I hope  in  political  agitation, 
but  I fear  in  drinking.”  Then  again  referring  to 


no  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

the  wonderful  wares  at  the  Kensington  Museum, 
he  asked:  “ Do  you  think  the  labor  of  the  mak- 
ers was  irksome?  ” And  then  answered:  “ While 
these  men  were  at  work,  at  least,  they  were  not 
unhappy,  and  I suppose  they  worked  most  days, 
and  the  most  part  of  the  day,  as  we  do.”  Another 
statement  of  his  position  is  found  in  “The  Art 
of  the  People  ”:  “ That  thing  which  I under- 
stand by  real  art  is  the  expression  by  man 
of  his  pleasure  in  labor.  I do  not  believe  he 
can  be  happy  in  his  labor  without  expressing 
that  happiness;  and  especially  is  this  so  when 
he  is  at  work  at  anything  in  which  he  specially 
excels.  A most  kind  gift  is  this  of  nature,  since 
all  men,  nay,  it  seems  all  things,  too,  must  labor; 
so  that  not  only  does  the  dog  take  pleasure  in 
hunting,  and  the  horse  in  running,  and  the  bird 
in  flying,  but  so  natural  does  the  idea  seem  to 
us,  that  we  imagine  to  ourselves  that  the  earth 
and  the  very  elements  rejoice  in  doing  their  ap- 
pointed work;  and  the  poets  have  told  us  of  the 
spring  meadows  smiling,  of  the  exultation  of  the 
fire,  of  the  countless  laughter  of  the  sea.”  His 
more  analytic  statement  of  the  theme  occurs  in  the 
essay  on  “Architecture.”  He  divides  work  into 
three  classes:  Mechanical,  Intelligent,  and  Imagi- 
native. The  first  kind  is  done  under  compul- 


Morris  and  His  Plea. 


1 1 1 


sion,  without  thought,  and  without  any  inherent 
rewTard.  The  second  kind  is  work  that  can  be 
done  better  or  worse,  and  which  if  well  done 
claims  attention  from  the  workman,  and  requires 
the  impress  of  his  individuality;  it  is  not  too 
toilsome,  and  is  done  with  some  degree  of  pleas- 
ure. The  third  kind  rises  above  the  second  in 
degree  only;  it  is  altogether  individual,  and  is 
all  pleasure.  Mechanical  toil  is  bred  of  the  hurry 
and  thoughtlessness  of  a commercial  civilization. 
Intelligent  work  is  the  child  of  struggling,  hope- 
ful, progressive  civilization;  its  office  is  to  add 
fresh  interest  to  simple  lives,  to  soothe  discon- 
tent with  innocent  pleasure  — a pleasure  fertile 
of  deeds  gainful  to  mankind.  Imaginative  work 
is  the  very  blossom  of  civilization  triumphant 
and  hopeful;  it  would  fain  lead  men  to  aspire 
towards  perfection;  each  hope  that  it  fulfils  gives 
birth  to  yet  another  hope;  it  bears  in  its  bosom 
the  worth  and  the  meaning  of  life,  and  the  counsel 
to  strive  to  understand  everything,  to  fear  nothing, 
and  to  hate  nothing;  in  a word,  it  is  the  symbol 
and  sacrament  of  the  Courage  of  the  World.  The 
problem  of  the  world  is  then  to  change  the  lower 
form  of  labor  into  the  higher,  and  in  the  light  of 
this  problem  the  questions  of  commerce,  machin- 
ery, and  division  of  labor  must  be  considered. 


1 1 2 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

In  this  transformation  of  work  and  the  eleva- 
tion of  life  the  effect  must  be  universal.  Morris 
saw  concretely  what  Matthew  Arnold  stated  in- 
tellectually, that  the  expansion  of  humanity  must 
be  a general  expansion.  “The  individual  is  re- 
quired,” said  Arnold,  “ under  pain  of  being  stunted 
and  enfeebled  in  his  own  development  if  he  dis- 
obeys, to  carry  others  along  with  him  in  his 
march  towards  perfection,  to  be  continually  doing 
all  he  can  to  enlarge  and  increase  the  volume  of 
the  human  stream  sweeping  thitherward.”  Trans- 
lated into  art  terms,  and  stated  negatively,  Arnold's 
proposition  reads  in  Morris  in  this  wise:  “For 
whereas  all  works  of  craftsmanship  were  once 
beautiful,  unwittingly  or  not,  they  are  now  di- 
vided into  two  kinds,  works  of  art  and  non-works 
of  art.  Now  nothing  made  by  man's  hand  can  be 
indifferent ; it  must  be  either  beautiful  and  elevat- 
ing, or  ugly  and  degrading ; and  those  things  that 
are  without  art  are  so  aggressively ; they  wound 
it  by  their  existence,  and  they  are  now  so  much 
in  the  majority  that  the  works  of  art  we  are 
obliged  to  set  ourselves  to  seek  for,  whereas  the 
other  things  are  the  ordinary  companions  of  our 
every-day  life ; so  that  if  those  who  cultivate  art 
intellectually  were  inclined  never  so  much  to  wrap 
themselves  in  their  special  gifts  and  their  high 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  1 1 3 

cultivation,  and  so  live  happily,  apart  from  other 
men,  and  despising  them,  they  could  not  do  so ; 
they  are  as  it  were  living  on  an  enemy’s  country; 
at  every  turn  there  is  something  lying  in  wait  to 
offend  and  vex  their  nicer  sense  and  educated 
eyes ; they  must  share  in  the  general  discomfort 
— and  I am  glad  of  it.”  Stated  positively  and 
prophetically,  the  theory  of  universality  reads 
thus:  C£  Of  the  art  that  is  to  come  who  may 
prophesy?  But  this  at  least  seems  to  follow  from 
comparing  that  past  with  the  confusion  in  which 
we  are  now  struggling  and  the  light  that  glim- 
mers through  it,  that  that  art  will  no  longer  be 
an  art  of  instinct,  of  ignorance,  which  is  hopeful 
to  learn  and  strives  to  see,  since  ignorance  is  now 
no  longer  hopeful.  In  this  and  in  many  other 
ways  it  may  differ  from  the  past  art,  but  in  one 
thing  it  must  needs  be  like  it,  it  will  not  be  an 
esoteric  mystery  shared  by  a little  band  of 
superior  beings ; it  will  be  no  more  hierarchical 
than  the  art  of  past  time  was,  but  like  it  it  will  be 
a gift  of  the  people  to  the  people,  a thing  which 
everybody  can  understand,  and  every  one  sur- 
round with  love;  it  will  be  a part  of  every  life, 
and  a hindrance  to  none.  For  this  is  the  essence 
of  art,  and  the  thing  that  is  eternal  to  it,  whatever 
else  may  be  passing  and  accidental.” 


1 14  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

In  the  earlier  lecture  on  “ Art  and  the  Beauty  of 
the  Earth”  this  thought  receives  even  fuller  state- 
ment: “If  you  accept  art,  it  must  be  part  of 
your  daily  lives,  and  the  daily  life  of  every  man. 
It  will  be  with  us  wherever  we  go,  in  the  ancient 
city  full  of  traditions  of  past  time,  in  the  newly 
cleared  farm  in  America  or  the  colonies,  where  no 
man  has  dwelt  for  traditions  to  gather  round  him  ; 
in  the  quiet  country-side  as  in  the  busy  town,  no 
place  shall  be  without  it.  You  will  have  it  with 
you  in  your  sorrow  as  in  your  joy,  in  your  work- 
a-day  hours  as  in  your  leisure.  It  shall  be  no 
respecter  of  persons,  but  be  shared  by  gentle  and 
simple,  learned  and  unlearned,  and  be  as  a lan- 
guage that  all  can  understand.  It  will  not  hinder 
any  work  that  is  necessary  to  the  life  of  man  at 
the  best,  but  it  will  destroy  all  degrading  toil,  all 
enervating  luxury,  all  foppish  frivolity.  It  will 
be  the  deadly  foe  of  ignorance,  dishonesty,  and 
tyranny,  and  will  foster  good-will,  fair  dealing,  and 
confidence  between  man  and  man.  It  will  teach 
you  to  respect  the  highest  intellect  with  a manly 
reverence,  but  not  to  despise  any  man  who  does 
not  pretend  to  be  what  he  is  not.”  And  then,  re- 
turning as  ever  to  his  fundamental  thought,  Mor- 
ris concluded  the  passage  : “And  that  which  shall 
be  the  instrument  that  it  shall  work  with  and  the 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 1 1 5 

food  that  shall  nourish  it  shall  be  man's  pleasure 
in  his  daily  labor,  the  kindest  and  best  gift  that 
the  world  has  ever  had." 

For  an  art  which  is  to  be  made  by  the  people 
and  for  the  people  two  virtues  are  necessary : 
honesty  and  simplicity — honesty  as  opposed  to 
injustice,  and  simplicity  as  opposed  to  luxury.  On 
both  of  these  topics  Morris  has  many  pregnant 
passages.  His  golden  rule  of  house-furnishing 
was,  “ Have  nothing  in  your  houses  which  you 
do  not  know  to  be  useful  or  believe  to  be  beauti- 
ful." He  claimed  that  all  art  started  from  this 
simplicity,  and  the  greater  the  art  the  more  notice- 
able was  its  simplicity.  But  this  virtue  appealed 
to  him  not  merely  because  simple  art  was  more 
beautiful  than  sumptuous  art  but  because  it  was 
more  social.  Luxury  is  an  outgrowth  of  and  is 
accompanied  by  slavery  ; it  means  the  piling  up 
of  possessions,  the  spoil  of  the  earth,  and  for  the 
owner  a chain  of  pompous  circumstance  which 
checks  and  annoys  him  at  every  step.  <c  I had 
thought,"  Morris  said,  “ that  civilization  meant  the 
attainment  of  peace  and  order  and  freedom,  of 
good-will  between  man  and  man,  of  the  love 
of  truth,  and  the  hatred  of  injustice,  and  by  con- 
sequence the  attainment  of  the  good  life  which 
these  things  breed,  a life  free  from  craven  fear, 


1 1 6 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

but  full  of  incident ; that  was  what  I thought  it 
meant,  not  more  stuffed  chairs  and  more  cush- 
ions, and  more  carpets  and  gas,  and  more  dainty 
meat  and  drink — and  therewithal  more  and  sharper 
differences  between  class  and  class.” 

Then  he  thought  that  if,  besides  attaining  to 
simplicity  of  life,  the  world  attained  also  to  the 
love  of  justice,  all  things  would  be  ready  for  the 
new  springtime  of  the  arts.  “ For  those  of  us 
that  are  employers  of  labor,  how  can  we  bear  to 
give  any  man  less  money  than  he  can  decently 
live  on,  less  leisure  than  his  education  and  self- 
respect  demand  ? Or  those  of  us  who  are  work- 
men, how  can  we  bear  to  fail  in  the  contract  we 
have  undertaken,  or  to  make  it  necessary  for  a 
foreman  to  go  up  and  down  spying  out  our  mean 
tricks  and  evasions  ? Or  we,  the  housekeepers,  can 
we  endure  to  lie  about  our  wares,  that  we  may 
shuffle  off  our  losses  on  to  some  one  else’s  shoul- 
ders ? Or  we,  the  public,  how  can  we  bear  to  pay 
a price  for  a piece  of  goods  which  will  help  to 
trouble  one  man,  to  ruin  another,  and  starve  a 
third  ? Or,  still  more,  I think,  how  can  we  bear 
to  use,  how  can  we  enjoy  something  which  has 
been  a pain  and  a grief  for  the  maker  to  make  ? ” 
In  deeper  definition  art  is  the  expression  of 
reverence  for  nature.  Art  is  satisfying,  and  gives 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 1 1 7 

pleasure  to  the  artist  because  its  activity  is  a part 
of  the  larger  creative  activity  of  the  universe.  In 
the  truest  sense  a work  of  art  is  a work  also  of 
nature.  Emerson  truly  said  of  the  Gothic  cathe- 
drals, “ These  temples  grew  as  grows  the  grass.” 
Morris  expresses  the  same  sentiment  with  refer- 
ence to  certain  old-time  English  cottages  that 
seem  to  be  a part  of  the  familiar  nature  amid 
which  they  stand ; to  one  in  particular,  stand- 
ing by  the  roadside  on  one  of  the  western  slopes 
of  the  Cotswold : “And  there  stands  the  little 
house  that  was  new  once,  a laborer’s  cottage  built 
of  the  Cotswold  limestone,  and  grown  now,  walls 
and  roof,  a lovely  warm  gray,  though  it  was 
creamy  white  in  its  earliest  day;  no  line  of  it 
could  ever  have  marred  the  Cotswold  beauty ; 
everything  about  it  is  solid  and  well  wrought ; it 
is  skilfully  planned  and  well  proportioned ; there 
is  a little  sharp  and  delicate  carving  about  its  arched 
doorway,  and  every  part  of  it  is  well  cared  for ; 
’tis  in  fact,  beautiful,  a work  of  art  and  a piece  of 
nature — -no  less.” 

It  is  at  this  point,  if  anywhere,  that  Morris’s 
poetry,  is  linked  with  his  socialism  ; for  his  poems 
describe  the  delights  of  a perfect  physical  life  upon 
the  earth.  His  own  impulses,  whether  as  artist 
or  man,  were  drawn  from  nature.  Perhaps  Whit- 


1 1 8 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

man’s  phrase,  cc  the  primal  sanities  of  nature,”  best 
denotes  the  spirit  of  his  work.  “Until,”  he  said, 
“ our  streets  are  decent  and  orderly,  and  our  town 
gardens  break  the  bricks  and  mortar  every  here 
and  there,  and  are  open  to  all  people  ; until  our 
meadows  even  near  our  towns  become  fair  and 
sweet,  and  are  unspoiled  by  patches  of  hideous- 
ness ; until  we  have  clear  sky  above  our  heads 
and  green  grass  beneath  our  feet ; until  the  great 
drama  of  the  seasons  can  touch  our  workmen  with 
other  feelings  than  the  misery  of  winter  and  the 
weariness  of  summer;  till  all  this  happens  our 
museums  and  art  schools  will  be  but  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  rich ; and  they  will  soon  cease  to  be 
of  any  use  to  them  also,  unless  they  make  up 
their  minds  that  they  will  do  their  best  to  give  us 
back  the  fairness  of  the  earth.” 

Finally  he  states  definitely  in  this  volume  what 
the  “ Cause  ” is  for  which  he  strives  : “That  cause 
is  the  democracy  of  art,  the  ennobling  of  daily  and 
common  work,  which  will  one  day  put  hope  and 
pleasure  in  the  place  of  fear  and  pain,  as  the  forces 
which  move  men  to  labor  and  keep  the  world 
a-going.” 

After  the  publication  of  this  volume  Morris’s 
socialism  became  more  and  more  political  and 
actively  militant.  On  the  sixth  of  March  he  gave 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 1 1 9 

an  address  at  Manchester  on  “ Art,  Wealth,  and 
Riches,”  in  which  he  attacked,  though  cautiously, 
the  ground  and  structure  of  modern  life.  And 
when  the  Manchester  Guardian  asked : “ Does 

not  that  raise  another  question  than  one  of  mere 
art?”  Morris  answered  by  letter: 

“It  was  the  purpose  of  my  lecture  to  raise 
another  question  than  one  of  art.  I specially 
wished  to  point  out  that  the  question  of  popular 
art  was  a social  question,  involving  the  happiness 
and  misery  of  the  greater  part  of  the  community. 
The  absence  of  popular  art  from  modern  times  is 
more  disquieting  and  grievous  to  bear  for  this  rea- 
son than  for  any  other,  that  it  betokens  that  fatal 
division  of  men  into  the  cultivated  and  the  degraded 
classes  which  competitive  commerce  has  bred  and 
fostered;  popular  art  has  no  chance  of  a healthy 
life,  or,  indeed,  of  a life  at  all,  till  we  are  on  the  way 
to  fill  up  this  terrible  gulf  between  riches  and  pov- 
erty. Doubtless  many  things  will  go  to  filling  it 
up,  and  if  art  must  be  one  of  those  things,  let  it 
go.  What  business  have  we  with  art  at  all  unless 
all  share  it?  I am  not  afraid  but  that  art  will  rise 
from  the  dead,  whatever  else  lies  there.  For  after 
all,  what  is  the  true  end  and  aim  of  all  politics  and 
all  commerce  ? Is  it  not  to  bring  about  a state  of 
things  in  which  all  men  may  live  at  peace  and  free 


120  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

from  ever-burdensome  anxiety,  provided  with 
work  which  is  pleasant  to  them  and  produces 
results  useful  to  their  neighbors? 

“It  may  well  be  a burden  to  the  conscience  of 
an  honest  man  who  lives  a more  manlike  life  to 
think  of  the  innumerable  lives  which  are  spent  in 
toil  unrelieved  by  hope  and  uncheered  by  praise ; 
men  who  might  as  well,  for  all  the  good  they  are 
doing  to  their  neighbors  by  their  work,  be  turning 
a crank  with  nothing  at  the  end  of  it ; but  this  is 
the  fate  of  those  who  are  working  at  the  bidding 
of  blind,  competitive  commerce,  which  still  persists 
in  looking  at  itself  as  an  end,  and  not  as  a means. 

“ It  has  been  this  burden  on  my  conscience,  I do 
in  all  sincerity  believe,  which  has  urged  me  on  to 
speak  of  popular  art  in  Manchester  and  elsewhere. 
I could  never  forget  that  in  spite  of  all  drawbacks 
my  work  is  little  else  than  pleasure  to  me;  that 
under  no  conceivable  circumstances  would  I give 
it  up  even  if  I could.  Over  and  over  again  have 
I asked  myself  why  should  not  my  lot  be  the 
common  lot.  My  work  is  simple  work  enough  ; 
much  of  it,  nor  that  the  least  pleasant,  any  man 
of  decent  intelligence  could  do,  if  he  could  but  get 
to  care  about  the  work  and  its  results.  Indeed  I 
have  been  ashamed  when  I have  thought  of  the 
contrast  between  my  happy  working  hours  and 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


i 21 


the  unpraised,  unrewarded,  monotonous  drudgery 
which  most  men  are  condemned  to.  Nothing 
shall  convince  me  that  such  labor  as  this  is  good 
or  necessary  to  civilization. ” 

With  his  conscience  touched,  and  hoping  some- 
thing practical  might  be  done  to  relieve  the  social 
situation,  Morris  gave  up  his  half-hearted  political 
radicalism  and  joined  the  Democratic  Federation, 
contributing  time  and  money  to  its  organ,  Justice . 
He  conceived  that  by  state  socialism  something 
of  change  could  be  effected,  and  for  several  years, 
particularly  during  1883  and  1884,  he  gave  most 
of  his  time  and  energy  to  socialistic  propaganda. 
And  when  his  friends  expostulated  that  the  lec- 
tures he  was  delivering,  and  the  leaders  and 
“ Chants  for  Socialists ” he  was  writing  did  not 
compensate  for  the  poetry  he  was  neglecting,  and 
that  his  work  as  a socialist  was  less  effective  and 
valuable  than  his  designing  and  weaving,  he  an- 
swered, cc  I cannot  help  acting  in  this  matter.” 
How  seriously  the  times  were  pressing  upon  him 
is  indicated  by  a letter  dated  1883  : “ I have  long 
felt  sure  that  commercialism  must  be  attacked  at 
the  root  before  we  can  be  on  the  road  for  those 
improvements  in  life  which  I so  much  desire.  A 
society  which  is  founded  on  the  system  of  com- 
pelling all  well-to-do  people  to  live  on  making 


122  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

the  greatest  possible  profit  out  of  the  labor  of 
others  must  be  wrong.  For  it  means  the  per- 
petuating the  division  of  society  into  civilized  and 
uncivilized  classes.  I am  far  from  being  an  an- 
archist, but  even  anarchy  is  better  than  this,  which 
is  in  fact  anarchy  and  despotism  mixed.  If  there 
is  no  hope  of  conquering  this — let  us  eat  and 
drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die.” 

At  this  time  Morris  was  firm  in  the  belief  that 
the  reorganization  of  society  was  practicable,  and 
that  if  it  could  be  effected  the  misery  of  the  world 
would  speedily  come  to  an  end.  In  writing  the 
manifesto  for  the  Hammersmith  branch  of  the 
Democratic  Federation,  he  referred  again  to  the 
war  between  capital  and  labor,  and  declared : 
<c  Socialism  will  end  this  war  by  abolishing  classes  ; 
this  change  will  get  rid  of  bad  housing,  under- 
feeding, overwork,  and  ignorance.”  He  believed 
this  so  thoroughly  that  when  the  Democratic  Fed- 
eration was  disrupted— owing  to  the  bickerings  of 
members — Morris  was  prominent  in  organizing 
at  once  the  Socialist  League  and  in  conducting 
its  paper,  The  Commonweal.  The  manifesto  of 
the  new  league,  dismissing  as  useless  all  tempor- 
ary and  partial  changes,  declared  for  a complete 
revolution  in  the  basis  of  society.  Filled  with 
loathing  at  the  <c cannibalism”  of  society,  Morris 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  123 

wrote  at  this  time:  “One  must  turn  to  hope,  and 
only  in  one  direction  do  I see  it — on  the  road  to 
revolution;  everything  else  is  gone  now.”  Yet 
after  1886  Morris  gradually  withdrew  from  the 
more  violent  members  of  his  party,  and  announced 
that  the  revolution  must  come  by  education : 
“ Education  towards  revolution  seems  to  me  to 
express  in  three  words  what  our  policy  should 
be/’  Consequently  he  took  less  and  less  interest 
in  the  active  propaganda  of  the  day,  and  turned 
again  to  literature,  publishing,  in  1886,  “The 
Dream  of  John  Ball,”  socialistic  in  its  motive,  to 
be  sure,  but  tempered  by  reflection  and  imagina- 
tion. In  1890  he  contributed  to  successive 
numbers  of  The  Commonweal  his  socialistic 
romance,  “News  from  Nowhere,”  written  in 
opposition  to  Bellamy’s  “Looking  Backward.” 
Morris  here  proposes  a simple,  pastoral  life, 
motived  by  co-operation  in  labor,  incentive  to 
which  is  pleasure  in  life  itself,  as  against  Bellamy’s 
complex  state  socialism,  centralization,  and  ma- 
chinery. Finally,  in  1 890,  the  affairs  of  the  Social- 
istic League  having  gone  from  bad  to  worse, 
Morris  resigned  from  the  organization,  making 
in  The  Commonweal , however,  before  withdrawal, 
a final  appeal  to  his  associates,  summing  up  the 
results  of  his  seven  years  of  public  service : 


i 24  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

C£  It  is  now  seven  years  since  socialism  came  to 
life  again  in  this  country.  To  some  the  time  will 
seem  long,  so  many  hopes  and  disappointments  as 
have  been  crowded  into  them.  Yet  in  the  history 
of  a serious  movement  seven  years  is  a short  time 
enough  ; and  few  movements  surely  have  made  so 
much  progress  during  this  time  in  one  way  or  an- 
other as  socialism  has  done.  For  what  was  it 
which  we  set  out  to  accomplish?  To  change  the 
system  of  society  on  which  the  tremendous  fabric 
of  civilization  is  founded,  and  which  has  been 
built  up  by  centuries  of  conflict  with  older  and 
dying  systems,  and  crowned  by  the  victory  of 
modern  civilization  over  the  material  surround- 
ings of  life.  Could  seven  years  make  any  visible 
impression  on  such  a tremendous  undertaking  as 
this  ? 

“ Consider,  too,  the  quality  of  those  who  began 
and  carried  on  this  business  of  reversing  the 
basis  of  modern  society  ! A few  workingmen, 
less  successful  even  in  the  wretched  life  of  labor 
than  their  fellows  ; a sprinkling  of  the  intellectual 
proletariat,  whose  keen  pushing  of  socialism  must 
have  seemed  pretty  certain  to  extinguish  their 
limited  chances  of  prosperity ; one  or  two  out- 
siders in  the  game  political ; a few  refugees  from 
the  bureaucratic  tyranny  of  foreign  Governments ; 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  125 

and  here  and  there  an  unpractical,  half-cracked 
artist  or  author. 

“ Yet  such  as  they  were,  they  are  enough  to  do 
something.  Through  them,  though  not  by 

them,  the  seven  years  of  the  new  movement 
toward  freedom  have,  contrary  to  all  that  might 
have  been  expected,  impressed  the  idea  of 
socialism  deeply  on  the  epoch. 

“ It  cannot  be  said  that  great,  unexpected  talent 
for  administration  and  conduct  of  affairs  has  been 
developed  amongst  us,  nor  any  vast  amount  of 
foresight  either.  We  have  been  what  we  seemed 
to  be  (to  our  friends  I hope) — and  that  was  no 
great  things.  We  have  between  us  made  about 
as  many  mistakes  as  any  other  party  in  a similar 
space  of  time.  Quarrels  more  than  enough  we 
have  had ; and  sometimes  also  weak  assent  for 
fear  of  quarrels  to  what  we  did  not  agree  with. 
There  has  been  self-seeking  amongst  us,  and  vain- 
glory, and  sloth,  and  rashness ; though  there  has 
been  at  least  courage  and  devotion  also.  When 
I first  joined  the  movement  I hoped  that  some 
workingman  leader,  or  rather  leaders,  would  turn 
up,  who  would  push  aside  all  middle-class  help, 
and  become  great  historical  figures.  I might  still 
hope  for  that,  if  it  seemed  likely  to  happen,  or 
indeed  I long  for  it  enough  ; but  to  speak  plainly 


i 26  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

it  does  not  seem  so  at  present.  Yet  I repeat,  in 
spite  of  all  drawbacks  the  impression  has  been 
made,  and  why  ? The  reason  has  been  given  in 
words  said  before,  but  which  I must  needs  say 
again ; because  that  seemingly  inexpugnable  fab- 
ric of  modern  society  is  verging  towards  its  fall ; 
it  has  done  its  work,  and  is  going  to  change  into 
something  else.” 

Noting  then  the  change  in  their  minds  from 
dwelling  upon  ideals  and  seeking  their  realization 
practically  Morris  continues  : 

“ There  are  two  tendencies  in  this  matter  of 
methods ; on  the  one  hand  is  our  old  acquain- 
tance palliation,  elevated  now  into  vastly  greater 
importance  than  it  used  to  be,  because  of  the 
growing  discontent,  and  the  obvious  advance  of 
socialism  ; on  the  other  is  the  method  of  partial, 
necessarily  futile,  inconsequent  revolt,  or  riot 
rather,  against  the  authorities,  who  are  our  abso- 
lute masters,  and  can  easily  put  it  down. 

£C  With  both  of  these  methods  I disagree ; and 
that  the  more  because  the  palliatives  have  to  be 
clamored  for,  and  the  riots  carried  out,  by  men 
who  do  not  know  what  socialism  is,  and  have  no 
idea  what  their  next  step  is  to  be,  if  contrary  to  all 
calculation  they  should  happen  to  be  successful. 
Therefore,  at  the  best,  our  masters  would  be  our 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 127 

masters  still,  because  there  would  be  nothing  to 
take  their  place.  We  are  not  ready  for  such  a 
change  as  that  l 

“I  have  mentioned  the  two  lines  on  which  what 
I should  call  the  methods  of  impatience  profess 
to  work.  Before  I write  a very  few  words  on 
the  line  of  method  on  which  some  of  us  can 
work,  I will  give  my  views  about  the  present 
state  of  the  movement  as  briefly  as  I can. 

“ The  whole  set  opinion  amongst  those  that 
are  more  or  less  touched  by  socialism,  who  are 
not  definite  socialists,  is  towards  the  new  trades' 
unionism  and  palliation.  Men  believe  that  they 
can  wrest  from  the  capitalists  some  portion  of 
their  privileged  profits,  and  the  masters,  to  judge 
by  the  recent  threats  of  combination  on  their 
side,  believe  also  that  this  can  be  done.  That 
it  could  only  partially  be  done,  and  that  the 
men  could  not  rest  there  if  it  were  done,  we 
socialists  know  very  well,  but  others  do  not.  I 
neither  believe  in  state  socialism  as  desirable  in 
itself,  nor,  indeed,  as  a complete  scheme  do  I 
think  it  possible.  Nevertheless,  some  approach 
to  it  is  sure  to  be  tried,  and  to  my  mind  this  will 
precede  any  complete  enlightenment  on  the  new 
order  of  things.  The  success  of  Mr.  Bellamy's 
utopian  book,  deadly  dull  as  it  is,  is  a straw  to 


128  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

show  which  way  the  wind  blows.  The  general 
attention  paid  to  our  clever  friends,  the  Fabian 
lecturers  and  pamphleteers,  is  not  altogether 
due  to  their  literary  ability ; people  have  really 
got  their  heads  turned  more  or  less  in  their  direc- 
tion. 

“Now  it  seems  to  me  that  at  such  a time,  when 
people  are  not  only  discontented,  but  have  really 
conceived  a hope  of  bettering  the  condition  of 
labor,  while  at  the  same  time  the  means  towards 
their  end  are  doubtful ; or,  rather,  when  they  take 
the  very  beginning  of  the  means  as  an  end  in  it- 
self— that  this  time,  when  people  are  excited  about 
socialism,  and  when  many  who  know  nothing 
about  it  think  themselves  socialists,  is  the  time  of 
all  others  to  put  forward  the  simple  principles  of 
socialism,  regardless  of  the  policy  of  the  passing 
hour. 

££  My  readers  will  understand  that  in  saying  this 
I am  speaking  for  those  who  are  complete  social- 
ists— or  let  us  call  them  communists.  I say  for 
us  to  make  socialists  is  the  business  at  present, 
and  at  present  I do  not  think  we  can  have  any 
other  useful  business.  Those  who  are  not  really 
socialists — who  are  trades  unionists,  disturbance- 
breeders,  or  what-not- — will  do  what  they  are  im- 
pelled to  do  ; but  we  need  not  and  cannot  heartily 


Morris  and  His  Plea. 


129 

work  with  them,  when  we  know  that  their  meth- 
ods are  beside  the  right  way. 

“Our  business,  I repeat,  is  the  making  of  social- 
ists., i.  e .,  convincing  people  that  socialism  is  good 
for  them  and  is  possible.  When  we  have  enough 
people  of  that  way  of  thinking,  they  will  find  out 
what  action  is  necessary  for  putting  their  prin- 
ciples in  practice.  Therefore,  I say,  make  social- 
ists. We  socialists  can  be  nothing  else  that  is 
useful.” 

Soon  after  withdrawing  from  the  league,  Morris 
organized  the  Hammersmith  Socialist  Society, 
with  the  object  of <c  making  socialists  ” and  spread- 
ing the  principles  of  socialism.  The  meetings 
were  held  weekly  at  Morris’s  house  on  the  Upper 
Mall,  and  by  lectures,  street-meetings,  and  publi- 
cations the  work  of  the  society  was  carried  on.  Its 
“ Statement  of  Principles  ” reads  as  follows  : 

Statement  of  Principles  of  the  Hammersmith  Socialist 

Society . 

By  Socialism,  the  Hammersmith  Socialist  So- 
ciety understands  the  realization  of  a condition  of 
true  society,  all-embracing  and  all-sufficing. 

It  believes  that  this  great  change  must  be 
effected  by  the  conscious  exertions  of  those  who 
have  learned  to  know  what  socialism  is. 

This  change,  it  believes,  must  be  an  essential 


130  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

change  in  the  basis  of  society.  The  present  basis 
is  privilege  for  the  few,  and  consequent  servitude 
for  the  many;  the  future  basis  will  be  equality  of 
condition  for  all,  which  we  firmly  believe  to  be  the 
essence  of  true  society. 

As  soon  as  any  community  begins  to  make 
differences  in  the  condition  and  livelihood  of  its 
members,  according  to  some  imagined  standard  of 
estimation  of  their  qualities,  it  finds  itself  driven 
to  use  a mere  arbitrary  system  for  the  appor- 
tioning of  responsibilities  and  rewards,  which  must 
of  necessity  injure  some  for  the  aggrandizement  of 
others.  But  when  a society  habitually  injures  any 
group  of  its  members,  it  has  become  a tyranny; 
it  has  ceased  to  be  a true  society,  and  has  lost 
its  reason  for  existence. 

As  Socialists,  we  say  that  society  is  embodied 
for  two  purposes,  the  increase  of  wealth  by  means 
of  the  combination  and  co-operation  of  the  vary- 
ing powers  and  capacities  of  men,  and  the  equit- 
able distribution  of  the  wealth  so  produced ; and 
as  each  man’s  capacities  can  be  used  for  the  benefit 
of  the  community,  and  as  the  needs  of  all  men  are 
at  least  similar,  we  claim  the  right  for  every  per- 
son born  into  society  to  a full  share  of  the  sum 
of  benefits  produced  by  it ; whosoever  is  kept  out 
of  this  share,  whether  by  force  or  fraud,  is  not  a 
member  of  society,  but  has  been  thrust  out  of  it, 
and  owes  no  allegiance  to  it. 

But  the  society  of  the  present  day,  that  of  the 
capitalist  and  wage-earner,  of  rich  and  poor,  by  no 


Morris  and  His  Plea . i 3 1 

means  admits  this  claim ; on  the  contrary,  the  es- 
sence of  it  is  the  denial  of  this  right  and  the  asser- 
tion of  an  arbitrary  inequality.  It  is  an  exclusive 
society,  a combination  of  privileged  pefsons  united 
for  the  purpose  of  excluding  the  majority  of  the 
population  from  participation  in  the  wealth  which 
they,  the  workers,  make.  The  system  whereby 
this  privilege  is  sustained  is  the  exclusive  owner- 
ship by  the  privileged  classes  of  the  means  of  pro- 
duction, that  is  to  say,  the  land  and  the  tools  and 
appliances  necessary  to  combined  labor,  namely, 
the  factories,  machinery,  railways,  and  other  means 
of  transit.  The  working  classes  are  not  allowed 
to  use  these  means  of  production  except  on  the 
terms  of  their  giving  up  everything  to  the  possess- 
ing classes  save  the  bare  necessities  of  life.  These 
so-called  higher  classes,  therefore,  are  enabled  to 
live  upon  the  labor  of  the  workers,  who  are  thus 
deprived  of  all  the  advantages  gained  by  an  ad- 
vanced state  of  civilization.  The  productivity  of 
labor  has  increased  enormously  within  the  last  four 
hundred  years,  but  the  working  classes  have  not 
shared  in  the  gains  of  that  increase  in  power;  all 
that  they  have  done  is  to  create  a large  and  pros- 
perous middle  class,  which  consists  in  part  of 
their  direct  employers,  i.  e.,  their  masters,  and  in 
part  of  those  who  minister  to  the  pleasure  and 
luxury  of  those  masters. 

The  workers,  therefore,  we  repeat,  are  not  a 
part  of  capitalist  society,  since  they  do  not  share 
in  the  wealth  produced  for  it ; they  are  but  its  ma- 


132  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

chinery,  and  are  not  protected  or  sustained  by  it ; 
for  them  it  has  ceased  to  be  a society,  and  has 
become  a tyranny ; and  it  is  a tyranny  whose  sub- 
jects are  not  an  inferior  race  of  feeble  and  inca- 
pable persons,  but  the  useful  part  of  the  population. 

Such  a society  (so  called)  dominating  popula- 
tions, the  useful  part  of  which  is  outlawed,  cannot 
be  stable;  it  holds  within  itself  the  elements  of  its 
own  dissolution;  and  it  can  only  go  on  existing 
by  the  repression  by  force  and  fraud  of  all  serious 
and  truthful  thought  and  all  aspirations  for  better- 
ment. It  is  conceivable,  though  we  believe  im- 
probable, that  it  may  still  further  degrade  the 
working-classes  till  it  has  crushed  all  resistance 
out  of  them,  and  made  them  slaves  more  hope- 
less and  more  hapless  than  the  world  has  yet  seen. 
But  the  whole  evolution  of  society,  and  all  the 
signs  of  the  times  bid  us  hope  for  a better  fate 
than  this  for  our  epoch.  It  is  becoming  clearer 
day  by  day  that  the  thought  and  the  hopes  of  the 
working-classes  (who  are  being  gradually  educated 
into  a knowledge  of  their  unworthy  position),  and 
the  force  lying  latent  in  them  for  a new  order 
of  things  cannot  be  repressed;  that  the  tyranny 
of  privilege  is  weakening,  and  that  we  are  within 
sight  of  its  overthrow. 

It  is  beyond  a doubt  that  if  the  workers  unite 
to  claim  their  heritage,  the  due  membership  of  so- 
ciety, the  tyranny  of  privilege  must  fall  before 
them,  and  that  true  society  will  rise  out  of  its 
ruins. 


Morris  and  His  Plea . 


1 33 


For  here  we  must  say  that  it  is  not  the  disso- 
lution of  society  for  which  we  strive,  but  its  rein- 
tegration. The  idea  put  forward  by  some  who 
attack  present  society,  of  the  complete  indepen- 
dence of  every  individual,  that  is,  of  freedom  with- 
out society,  is  not  merely  impossible  of  realization, 
but  when  looked  into,  turns  out  to  be  incon- 
ceivable. 

As  Socialists,  it  is  a true  society  which  we  de- 
sire. Of  that  true  society  the  workers  contain 
the  genuine  elements,  although  they  are  outcasts 
from  the  false  society  of  the  day,  the  tyranny 
of  privilege;  and  it  is  their  business  to  show  the 
privileged  that  it  is  so  by  constituting  themselves 
even  now,  under  the  present  tyranny,  into  a society 
of  labor,  definitely  opposed  to  the  society  of  privi- 
lege. Such  a society  would  be  able  to  ameliorate 
the  lot  of  the  workers  by  wringing  concessions 
from  the  masters,  while  it  was  sapping  the  strong- 
hold of  privilege,  the  individual  ownership  of  the 
means  of  production,  and  developing  capacity  for 
administration  in  its  members;  so  that  when  the 
present  system  is  overthrown  they  might  be  able 
to  carry  on  the  business  of  the  community  with- 
out waste  or  disaster. 

To  further  this  militant  society  of  labor  we  be- 
lieve to  be  the  business  of  all  Socialists;  but  we 
would  say  a word  about  the  part  in  this  business 
which  we  believe  should  be  the  special  work  of  the 
Hammersmith  Socialist  Society  and  others,  who 
are  neither  State  Socialists  nor  Anarchists. 


134  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

We  believe  then  that  it  should  be  our  special 
aim  to  make  Socialists  by  putting  before  people, 
and  especially  the  working-classes,  the  elementary 
truths  of  Socialism ; since  we  feel  sure,  in  the  first 
place,  that  in  spite  of  the  stir  in  the  ranks  of  labor 
there  are  comparatively  few  who  understand  what 
Socialism  is,  or  have  had  oppcrtunities  of  arguing 
on  the  subject  with  those  who  have  at  least  begun 
to  understand  it;  and  in  the  second  place  we  are 
no  less  sure  that  before  any  definite  Socialist  action 
can  be  attempted  it  must  be  backed  up  by  a great 
body  of  intelligent  opinion  — the  opinion  of  a great 
mass  of  people  who  are  already  Socialists  — people 
who  know  what  they  want,  and  are  prepared  to  ac- 
cept the  responsibilities  of  self-government,  which 
must  form  a part  of  their  claims. 

It  may  be,  nay,  probably  will  be,  necessary  that 
various  crude  experiments  in  the  direction  of  State 
Socialism  should  be  tried;  but  we  say  if  this  be 
so  let  them  be  advocated  by  those  who  believe 
that  they  see  in  them  a solution  of  the  social 
question,  rather  than  by  those  who,  not  so  believ- 
ing, merely  wish  to  use  the  advocacy  of  them  as 
a political  expedient  for  strengthening  their  po- 
sition as  exponents  of  Socialism. 

On  the  other  hand,  we  deprecate  spasmodic  and 
desperate  acts  of  violence,  which  will  only  increase 
the  miseries  of  the  poor  and  the  difficulties  of  So- 
cialists by  alarming  the  timid,  and  giving  oppor- 
tunities for  repression  to  the  capitalist  executive, 
and  which  must  of  necessity  be  carried  on  by  men 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  135 

who  know  nothing  of  their  position,  except  that 
they  are  suffering,  and  who,  in  consequence,  will 
yield  easily  to  those  who  may  relieve  their  suffer- 
ings temporarily.  At  the  same  time,  we  know 
that  it  may  be  necessary  to  incur  the  penalties 
attaching  to  passive  resistance,  which  is  the  true 
weapon  of  the  weak  and  unarmed,  and  which 
embarrasses  a tyranny  far  more  than  acts  of  hope- 
less violence  can  do,  turning  the  apparent  vic- 
tories of  the  strong  and  unjust  into  real  defeats 
for  them. 

Furthermore,  as  Socialists,  we  would  remind 
our  brethren  generally  that,  though  we  cannot 
but  sympathize  with  all  struggles  of  the  workers 
against  their  masters,  however  partial  they  may 
be,  however  much  they  may  fall  short  of  com- 
plete and  effective  combination,  yet  we  cannot 
fail  to  see  that  of  themselves  these  partial  struggles 
will  lead  nowhere;  and  that  this  must  always  be 
the  case  as  long  as  the  workers  are  the  wage- 
slaves  of  the  employers. 

We,  therefore,  earnestly  urge  the  workers  to 
lose  no  time  in  constituting  a general  combina- 
tion of  labor,  whose  object  will  be  the  abolition 
of  privilege  by  means  of  obtaining  for  labor  the 
complete  control  of  the  means  of  production, 
which  must  be  the  first  step  in  the  realization 
of  Socialism.  With  this  object  steadily  in  view 
such  a combination  will  gain  ever  fresh  advan- 
tages for  the  workers;  every  one  of  which,  be  it 
remembered,  must  necessarily  be  gained  at  the 


136  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

expense  of  the  capitalists.  It  will  drive  them 
from  position  after  position,  until  at  last  they  will 
find  themselves  burdened  with  a responsibility 
which  carries  with  it  no  privilege,  and  will  call 
upon  the  workers  to  take  that  responsibility  on 
themselves,  and  themselves  carry  on  the  work 
of  the  world. 

It  is  the  business  of  all  Socialists  to  do  their 
best  to  bring  it  about,  that  in  that  day  the  masters 
will  be  addressing  men  who  are  willing  and  able  to 
accept  that  responsibility,  because  they  know  that 
they,  who  were  once  outcasts  from  society,  have 
now  become  society  itself. 

In  this  hope,  we  appeal  to  all  workers  to  learn 
to  understand  their  true  position;  to  understand 
that  they  have  no  hope  of  bettering  their  con- 
dition save  by  general  combination;  but  that, 
by  means  of  that  general  combination,  they  may 
become  irresistible;  that  their  demands  must  then 
be  yielded  to.  But  unless  they  know  what  to 
demand  they  will  not  be  really  strong;  nay, 
without  that  knowledge,  complete  combination 
is  impossible. 

You  that  are  not  Socialists,  therefore  learn,  and 
in  learning  teach  us,  that  when  we  know  we  may 
be  able  to  act,  and  so  realize  the  new  order 
of  things,  the  beginnings  of  which  we  can  al- 
ready see,  though  we  cannot  picture  to  ourselves 
its  happiness. 

December,  1890. 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  137 

During  the  remaining  years  of  his  life  Morris 
was  active  in  many  directions — writing,  working, 
lecturing,  equally  interested  in  life  and  in  the  arts 
of  life.  H is  last  public  utterance  on  a social  topic 
appeared  in  the  Daily  Chronicle , November  9, 
1893,  with  reference  to  the  Miner's  Question: 
“ The  first  step,"  he  declared,  “ towards  the  new 
birth  of  art  must  be  a definite  rise  in  the  condi- 
tion of  the  workers  ; their  livelihood  must,  to  say 
the  least  of  it,  be  less  niggardly  and  less  precari- 
ous, and  their  hours  of  labor  shorter  ; and  this 
improvement  must  be  a general  one,  and  con- 
firmed against  the  chances  of  the  market  by 
legislation."  And  once  more,  in  1894,  address- 
ing some  art  students  at  Birmingham,  he  reviewed 
his  familiar  thoughts,  affirming  that  for  a new  art 
impulse  the  world  must  depend  upon  a love  of 
nature  and  admiration  for  the  great  architecture 
and  art  of  the  past,  the  faithful  memorials  of 
man's  history,  and  offering  as  his  last  advice  this 
thought : “ Make  yourself  sure  that  you  have  in 
you  the  essentials  of  an  artist  before  you  study 
art  as  a handicraft  by  which  to  earn  your  bread. 
But,  again,  if  you  are  able  to  do  this,  and  become 
a genuine  handicraftsman,  I congratulate  you  on 
your  position,  whatever  else  may  happen  to  you, 
for  you  then  belong  to  the  only  group  of  people 


138  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

in  civilization  which  is  really  happy — persons 
whose  necessary  daily  work  is  inseparable  from 
their  greatest  pleasure.”  His  last  words  on  the 
subject  of  socialism  were  written  to  an  Amer- 
ican correspondent  who  had  asked  if  he  had 
changed  his  mind  on  socialism.  He  replied,  in 
January,  1896  : “I  have  not  changed  my  mind  on 
socialism.  My  view  on  the  point  of  relation 
between  art  and  socialism  is  as  follows  : Society 
(so  called)  at  present  is  organized  entirely  for  the 
benefit  of  a privileged  class;  the  working-class  being 
only  considered  in  the  arrangement  as  so  much 
machinery.  This  involves  perpetual  and  enor- 
mous waste , and  the  organization  for  the  pro- 
duction of  genuine  utilities  is  only  a secondary 
consideration.  This  waste  lands  the  whole  civil- 
ized world  in  a position  of  artificial  poverty , which 
again  debars  men  of  all  classes  from  satisfying 
their  rational  desires.  Rich  men  are  in  slavery 
to  philistinism,  poor  men  to  penury.  We  can 
none  of  us  have  what  we  want,  except  (partially 
only)  by  making  prodigious  sacrifices,  which  very 
few  men  can  ever  do.  Before,  therefore,  we  can  so 
much  as  hope  for  any  art,  we  must  be  free  from 
this  artificial  poverty.  When  we  are  thus  free, 
in  my  opinion,  the  natural  instincts  of  mankind 
toward  beauty  and  incident  will  take  their  due 


Morris  and  His  Plea. 


1 39 

place ; we  shall  want  art,  and  since  we  shall  be 
really  wealthy,  we  shall  be  able  to  have  what 
we  want.” 

To  the  ending  of  the  day  of  commercial  selfish- 
ness, and  to  the  dawning  of  the  day  of  peace  and 
good  will,  Morris  ever  looked  forward,  with  the 
same  feeling  as  when,  in  Sigurd,  he  pictured  the 
twilight  of  the  old  gods  and  the  rising  of  the  sun 
of  Balder,  the  Beautiful. 

The  Sixth  Exhibition,  in  1899,  °f  the  London 
Arts  and  Crafts  Exhibition  Society  was  made 
notable  by  a memorial  exhibition  of  works  by 
William  Morris.  One  room  of  the  new  gallery 
was  devoted  to  a collection  of  his  more  intimate 
and  personal  work,  comprising  over  one  hundred 
and  fifty  of  his  original  drawings  for  fabrics, 
stained  glass,  wall-paper,  and  printing,  and  the 
products  of  the  Kelmscott  Press.  To  the  cata- 
log of  this  exhibition  Mr.  Walter  Crane  con- 
tributed a note  in  memory  of  the  former  president 
of  the  society,  which,  as  one  of  the  most  adequate 
estimates  made  of  the  great  designer,  may  be 
quoted  in  full  : 

“Three  years  have  passed  since,  on  the  eve  of 
the  opening  of  our  Fifth  Exhibition,  on  October 
3d,  1 896,  William  Morris,  our  late  president,  died. 

“ It  seems  fitting,  therefore,  in  inaugurating  the 


140  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

Sixth  Exhibition  of  the  Society,  to  offer  a word  to 
the  memory  of  the  great  designer  and  craftsman, 
poet  and  social  reformer,  who  has  been  so  potent 
an  influence  in  the  movement  of  revival  in  the 
handicrafts  which  has  characterized  the  later  years 
of  our  century. 

“Looking  at  the  evidence  of  his  extraordinary 
energy  and  power  of  concentration  spent  upon  the 
details  of  so  many  different  crafts,  one  is  struck 
no  less  by  the  vigor  and  strength  of  his  work  in 
each  as  by  the  care  and  taste  displayed. 

“William  Morris's  unerring  instinct  for  deco- 
rative beauty  in  surface  ornament  allowed  him  to 
be  exuberant  and  profuse,  rich  and  intricate,  or, 
as  in  the  earlier  work,  frank  and  simple.  One  sees 
an  English  taste  and  reserve  united  with  a luxuriant 
and  almost  Oriental  fancy.  Yet  through  them  all 
one  feels  the  spirit  of  the  romantic  and  narrative 
poet  refining  and  informing  every  detail,  as  one 
may  see  the  sunlight  illuminating  the  leafy  meshes 
of  a wild  wood. 

“In  the  same  way,  as  we  wander  through  the 
poet’s  own  garden  in  cThe  Earthly  Paradise,’  we 
feel  the  spirit  of  the  artist  and  craftsman  dwelling 
lovingly  upon  the  beauty  of  carved  pillars  and  in- 
laid floors,  the  wonders  of  the  loom,  the  vessels  of 
brass,  and  of  silver  and  gold,  which  become  parts 


Morris  and  His  Plea.  141 

of  that  rich  mosaic  of  romance  which  he  himself 
wove  in  his  verse  and  prose  tales,  so  glowing  with 
color  and  pattern  as  scarcely  to  need  the  illumi- 
nator’s gold  and  blue  and  scarlet,  which  again,  in 
the  literal  sense,  no  one  knew  better  how  to  use 
than  William  Morris. 

cc  Strictly  reserved  and  formalized  as  his  drawing 
and  designs  were,  in  adaptation  to  printing  and 
weaving,  his  treatment  of  natural  forms  shows  the 
close  observer  and  student  of  structural  line  and 
form,  as  well  as  the  artist’s  delight  in  them. 

“ An  ardent  enthusiast  for  the  character  and 
beauty  of  mediaeval  art,  deeply  penetrated  with  its 
spirit,  while  possessing  a profound  knowledge  of  its 
letter,  he  wrote  and  designed  freely  in  what  some 
thought  the  disguise  of  a past  age,  but  it  was  as 
an  artist , not  as  an  archaeologist,  and  he  was 
strengthened  in  all  his  work  by  his  knowledge  and 
love  of  architecture,  by  which  all  the  arts  are 
united. 

“ So  that,  although  we  may  trace  the  sources  of 
his  inspiration  and  the  various  influences  under 
which  he  lived,  the  total  impression  of  the  work 
of  William  Morris,  regarded  as  a whole,  is  that 
of  the  full  and  free  expression  of  a powerful  per- 
sonality; and  it  was  by  the  force  of  that  person- 
ality that  he  was  able  to  inspire  and  direct  others 


142  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

with  so  much  success  and  to  leave  behind  him  a 
living  tradition. 

‘‘Again,  in  his  social  work,  it  was  his  passion  for 
beauty,  and  love  of  a simple  and  wholesome  life, 
however  refined,  which  drove  him  to  revolt  against 
the  gloomy  conventions,  the  pretenses,  the  mean- 
ness and  shabbiness  of  so  much  in  the  aspects  of 
modern  existence. 

“Although,  with  his  usual  thoroughness  and 
power  of  concentration,  he  pursued  the  matter  to 
its  roots  in  the  economic  system,  his  artistic  in- 
stincts, as  well  as  his  reason  and  humanity,  made 
him  a socialist ; and  beyond  the  din  of  controversy, 
he  took  care  to  record  his  own  conception  of  an 
ideal  state,  in  his  utopian  romance,  ‘News  from 
Nowhere/  ” 

IV.  Ashbee  and  the  Reconstructed  Workshop . 

The  Essex  House  in  London,  “A  Guild  and 
School  of  Handicraft/’  is  another  mile-stone  on 
the  road  to  Industrial  freedom  — on  the  testi- 
mony both  of  its  work  and  of  its  purpose  as  re- 
corded in  the  writings  of  C.  R.  Ashbee,  the 
founder  and  director  of  the  Essex  Guild.  Mr. 
Ashbee’s  special  plea  is  for  a reconstructed  work- 
shop, a workshop  so  constituted  that  it  may  func- 
tion at  once  as  the  state,  the  school,  and  the  factory. 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop.  143 

Membership  in  it  should  constitute  citizenship, 
apprenticeship  in  it  should  afford  education,  pro- 
duction in  it  should  provide  materials  for  use  and 
exchange. 

In  the  final  essay  in  Mr.  Ashbee’s  volume  en- 
titled £C  Chapters  in  Workshop  Reconstruction 
and  Citizenship  ” the  idealist’s  gospel  of  work 
and  the  ideal  of  citizenship  in  a workshop  are 
finely  presented.  In  the  matter  of  production  — 
what,  Mr.  Ashbee  asks,  is  it  all  for?  ccThis 
mere  trifle  of  mine,  of  what  use  or  beauty  may  it 
be,  will  it  give  any  one  delight  ? Maybe  not, 
maybe  it  is  useless  and  unlovely,  and  will  give  no 
man  pleasure.  What  then  ? Why  just  this,  we 
are  brought  face  to  face  with  the  ethics  of  pro- 
duction ; the  artist  producer  stands  forth.  This 
trifle  of  mine  is  a mere  symbol,  the  thing  itself  is 
empty,  vain;  its  goodness  consists  in  the  spirit  put 
into  it,  and  the  doing  it ; its  creation  by  us  reflects 
a greater  doing,  symbolizes  a creation  elsewhere, 
in  which  we  are  sublimely  and  unconsciously  tak- 
ing part.  We  talk  of  a piece  of  machine-made 
work  as  soulless — what  a deal  we  mean  when  we 
say  that ! So  let  us  continue  to  make  our  trifles, 
remembering  always  that  they  are  symbols  only. 
This,  if  you  will,  is  the  Idealist’s  Gospel  of 
Work,  and  the  strength  of  our  continuance  is 


144  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

the  measure  of  our  idealism.  Artist  and  pro- 
ducer then,  have  the  same  ethics,  and  just  as  it  is 
the  individual  touches  of  the  artist  that  make  the 
great  work  of  Art,  so  it  is  the  little  human  details 
impressed  upon  production  that  give  it  interest 
or  character.  This,  in  our  vast  mechanical  sys- 
tem of  industry  and  individualism,  we  have 
missed  sight  of.  Individualism  has  lost  us  in- 
dividuality. Individuality  has  gone  out  of  in- 
dustry, but  it  must  be  brought  back  again.  The 
system  has  destroyed  the  things  created,  and  in 
destroying  the  productions  we  destroy  the  pro- 
ducers. Lower  the  standard  of  the  work  and 
you  lower  the  standard  of  the  man.” 

But  given  individualism  how  shall  sovereign 
individuals  be  united  in  a community  P The 
cc  Workshop”  gives  the  solution  to  this  question 
also. 

“The  reconstructed  workshop  must  have  an 
intimate  human  relationship  for  its  basis ; here 
will  be  the  faith  of  the  little  citizen  of  the  future. 
So  personal  is  this  question,  that  it  seems  out  of 
place  in  any  consideration  of  the  action  of  men 
together  for  any  public  purpose.  But  it  is  just 
because  it  is  so  personal  that  it  is  so  important. 
As  present,  where  men  are  bound  together  in 
production,  their  bond  is  one  of  chance,  or  of 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop.  145 

common  enmity  to  an  employer,  and  they  become 
friends  because  they  are  shopmates.  In  the  re- 
constructed workshop  this  will  have  to  be  inverted, 
and  they  will  become  shopmates  rather  because 
they  are  friends.  Here,  once  again,  is  the  unit; 
we  come  back  to  that.  It  is  the  unit,  the  individ- 
ual, that  we  have  got  to  touch. 

cc  Somewhat  in  this  way  might  we  state  our 
belief : 

ccThat  moment  when  the  hand  of  my  friend 
was  pressed  in  mine  has  expanded  over  my  life, 
and  become  it.  The  reason  why  I choose  you  — 
what  is  it  ? Let  us  call  it  a twofold  reason.  First, 
because  of  the  you  in  you;  second,  because  of  the 
you  in  me — the  first  in  your  own  character  and 
choosing ; the  second,  the  magnetic  force  of 
which  I am  the  vessel ; the  first  in  your  own 
making;  the  second  intrusted  to  me  by  God.  It 
is  not  new  in  itself ; this,  the  feeling  that  drew 
Jesus  to  John,  or  Shakespeare  to  the  youth  of 
the  sonnets,  or  that  inspired  the  friendships  of 
Greece,  has  been  with  us  before,  and  in  the  new 
citizenship  we  shall  need  it  again.  The  Whit- 
manic  love  of  comrades  is  its  modern  expression, 
democracy — as  socially,  not  politically,  conceived 
— its  basis.  The  thought  as  to  how  much  of  the 
solidarity  of  labor  and  the  modern  trade-union 


146  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

movement  may  be  due  to  an  unconscious  faith 
in  this  principle  of  comradeship  is  no  idle  one. 
The  freer,  more  direct,  and  more  genuine  rela- 
tionship between  men,  which  is  implied  by  it, 
must  be  the  ultimate  basis  of  the  reconstructed 
workshop.  ‘When  I touch  the  human  body,* 
said  Novalis,  CI  touch  heaven!' 

“This  relationship — ’human  bond — as  distin- 
guished from  the  cash  or  other  nexus , we  have  to 
study,  to  analyze,  to  find,  if  possible,  the  philo- 
sophic basis  of,  and  we  may  learn  in  teaching  it.  We 
have  to  train  ourselves  and  those  we  teach  to  lay 
high  stakes  on  new  personalities,  to  strive  for  infal- 
libility of  decision,  and  instant  decision  when  a 
new  personality  comes.  I look  into  your  eyes, 
stranger ; God  grant  me  the  power  of  instantly 
telling  whether  or  not  you  are  sent  for  me.  A few 
times  wrong,  and  we  grow  sensitive  to  right  choos- 
ing; each  right  choice  makes  the  next  more  certain. 
This  magnetism  of  the  human  bond,  too,  is  gen- 
erative; you  light  me,  and  the  fire  grows  within 
me ; I spread  it,  and  it  grows  again,  till  at  last 
the  whole  air  in  which  we  move  is  charged  with 
it.  It  runs  into  us,  and  through  us,  again  and 
again ; as  we  receive  more  we  emit  more,  till  our 
whole  surroundings  grow  brilliant  with  light— 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop . 147 

that  incomprehensible  blue  light  in  the  vision  of 
Heinrich  von  Ofterdingen.” 

From  this  ideal  of  citizenship — individuality 
on  the  basis  of  comradeship- — the  problem  of 
education  takes  on  meaning.  Throughout  his 
writings  Mr.  Ashbee  insists  upon  connecting  the 
teaching  function  with  the  workshop  function. 
Teaching  outside  the  workshop  is  too  artificial, 
too  remote  from  life,  too  abstract.  “ Our  ideal  is 
to  create  a school  whose  life  shall  depend  upon 
what  is  the  only  living  thing — the  life  of  work- 
manship ; a school  whose  future  shall  be  bound 
up  with  the  future  of  those  who  labor  in  it;  a 
school,  therefore,  that  shall  be  self-dependent  and 
supported  from  within,  not  from  without — the 
school  of  a movement.”  It  is  first  necessary  to 
co-ordinate  the  abstract  and  the  concrete,  to  graft 
the  humanistic  onto  the  industrial.  It  is  seen  that 
every  craft  has  its  social,  historical,  literary,  artistic, 
technical,  and  scientific  aspect.  Starting  from  the 
manipulation,  say  of  metals  in  the  workshop,  the 
lines  of  interest  run  out  in  every  direction  and 
involve  scientific  and  humanistic  studies  in  their 
most  vital  bearings.  Then  art  instruction  must 
be  transferred  from  the  studio  to  the  workshop. 
The  studio  is,  in  its  nature,  subjective  and  non- 


148  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

social.  It  fosters  selfishness  and  a kind  of  refined 
sensuality.  The  workshop  in  its  nature  is  objec- 
tive and  social.  It  cultivates  the  higher  socialism. 
In  the  workshop  those  magnetic  affinities  that 
engender  creative  impulses  spring  up  between  men. 
Based  on  comradeship  production  is  humanized. 
In  the  workshop  questions  of  organization  and 
division  of  labor  are  solved  on  democratic  grounds. 

The  workshop,  constructed  on  such  grounds, 
renders  schools  of  design  and  polytechnic  insti- 
tutions unnecessary.  It  is  idle  to  teach  design 
abstractly  as  an  end  in  itself.  “ Design,”  says 
Mr.  Ashbee,  “ is  that  element  in  any  art  and  craft 
by  which  the  whole  hangs  together,  first  con- 
structively and  then  aesthetically.”  Design,  there- 
fore, must  have  reference  to  something- — a building, 
a table,  jewel,  lamp,  or  book.  A craftsman  learns 
design  by  applying  thought  to  materials.  In 
polytechnic  institutes  instruction  is  again  given 
outside  the  workshop  by  teachers  who  know  little 
or  nothing  of  practical  craftsmanship.  Instead 
of  maintaining  an  industrial  system  whereby  a few 
men  become  holders  of  great  wealth,  a part  of 
which,  forced  by  public  opinion,  returns  to  the 
public  in  the  form  of  endowed  technical  schools, 
the  query  arises  why  cannot  technical  instruction 
be  conducted  within  the  system,  and  by  the  work- 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop . 149 

ers  themselves  ? Some  such  conclusion  as  Mr. 
Ashbee  reaches  is  forced  upon  us.  “We  must 
convert  Mr.  Pushington’s  great  house  into  a sort 
of  industrial  partnership  whose  future  is  invested 
in  its  producers,  not  its  entrepreneurs,  and  we 
must  utilize  the  sum  which  public  opinion  extorts 
from  his  munificence,  not  for  the  purpose  of 
swelling  big  polytechnics,  but  of  teaching  in  the 
workshop.”  “ Suppose,”  says  Mr.  Ashbee  fur- 
ther, “ Mr.  Pushington  were  to  keep  his  £2 0,000. 
Suppose  he  were  to  spend  the  interest  of  it  upon 
the  educational  development,  in  artistic  matters,  of 
the  employes  of  Sky  Sign  & Co.  Suppose  he 
were  to  build  a small  hall,  with  benches,  books, 
and  appliances,  useful  and  illustrative  of  the  trade 
of  Sky  Sign  & Co.  Suppose  he  were  then  to  say 
to  Mr.  Pennyworth  : Now  complete  your  knowl- 
edge by  a more  careful  application  to  the  tools 
and  concrete  facts  of  design  ; and  to  Mr.  Trudge, 
now  come  and  improve  not  your  technical  skill, 
but  master  some  of  the  theory  of  your  trade,  and 
learn  how  the  whole  hangs  together.  In  addition, 
suppose  he  taught  in  his  school  the  small  Penny- 
worths and  the  small  Trudges  the  use  of  the  tool 
and  the  use  of  the  pencil  alike,  and  got  them  in 
their  boyhood  to  feel  this  relation  of  art  to  indus- 
try;  got  them  to  see  the  charm  of  a well-lit,  well- 


150  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

hung  hall  of  art  and  industry;  got  them  to  feel  their 
own  little  relation  to  Sky  Sign  & Co.,  perhaps 
even  insuring  them  a footing,  after  their  pupilage 
in  the  school,  in  the  historical  house  itself.  There, 
it  seems  to  me,  would  be  a veritable  polytechnic, 
and  a genuine  application  of  art  to  industry.” 
The  workshop  as  factory,  which  shall  be  also  a 
training  school  for  citizenship  and  for  occupations, 
is  as  yet  but  a vision  offered  to  the  future  for 
realization.  The  present  factory,  with  its  mon- 
archic organization,  its  commanders  and  bosses, 
its  special  designers,  its  divided  workers,  and  as 
a whole,  its  commercial  motives,  will  give  way  in 
time  to  the  guild  or  small  co-operative  society, 
which  shall  be  integral  as  to  its  work,  human  as 
to  its  motives,  artistic  as  to  its  ends.  By  integral 
labor  is  meant  that  the  workman  must  give  his 
entire  energy,  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual,  to 
his  work,  and  that  all  his  faculties  must  touch  his 
work  at  all  points.  By  human  motives  is  meant 
that  the  producers,  and  not  the  things  produced, 
are  to  be  valued  and  conserved.  By  artistic  ends 
is  meant  that  work  must  constantly  tend  towards 
imaginative  production.  “Art”  is  the  “higher 
production,”  differing  from  “ craft,”  which  is  tech- 
nical production,  and  from  “industry,”  which  is 
mechanical  production,  only  in  the  degree  of  per- 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop . 1 5 1 

sonal  creativeness  involved  in  the  process.  Thus 
considered,  art  is  the  “ crown  and  fulfilment  of 
noble  citizenship,,,  and  the  ultimate  function  of 
the  workshop. 

Among  the  aphorisms  offered  by  Mr.  Ashbee 
to  guide  our  thinking  on  workshop  reconstruction 
appear  the  following: 

“The  crown  and  fulfilment  of  national  life  is 
a wise  understanding  and  enjoyment  of  beauty.” 
cc  The  only  hope  for  the  development  of  the 
sense  of  beauty  is  among  the  artificially  cultured 
class  of  artists  and  the  artisan  ; the  one  conscious, 
the  other  unconscious.” 

“ Under  modern  conditions  of  art,  picture- 
painting is  forced  into  an  artificial  prominence, 
and  the  constructional  and  decorative  arts,  the 
real  backbone,  have  as  yet  no  right  recognition 
among  us.” 

“ The  problems  of  machine  production  will  have 
to  be  solved  within  the  workshop.  A sharp  dis- 
tinction will  have  to  be  drawn  between  what  is  pro- 
duced by  machinery  and  the  direct  work  of  man's 
hands,  and  the  standard  of  artistic  excellence  must 
depend  ultimately  upon  the  pleasure  given,  not 
to  the  consumer  but  to  the  producer.” 

“At  the  present  day,  the  social  problem  has 
prior  claim  to  the  artistic.” 


152  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

The  Guild  and  School  of  Handicraft,  where 
these  ideas  have  been  demonstrated,  was  founded 
by  Mr.  Ashbee,  in  1880,  as  the  result  of  a small 
Ruskin  class  conducted  at  Toynbee  Hall.  “The 
reading  of  Ruskin,”  Mr.  Ashbee  notes,  “ led  to  an 
experiment  of  a practical  nature,  and  out  of  c Fors 
Clavigera’  and  the  c Crown  of  Wild  Olive’  sprang 
a small  class  for  the  study  of  design.  The  class 
grew  to  thirty  — some  men,  some  boys  — and 
then  it  was  felt  that  design  needed  application 
to  give  the  teaching  fulfilment.  A piece  of  prac- 
tical work,  which  involved  painting,  modeling, 
plaster-casting,  gilding,  and  the  study  of  heraldic 
forms,  gave  a stimulus  to  the  corporate  action 
of  the  thirty  students,  and  the  outcome  of  their 
united  work  as  dilettanti  was  the  desire  that  per- 
manence might  be  given  to  it  by  making  it  work 
for  life  and  bread.  From  this  sprang  the  idea 
of  the  present  Guild  and  School.  Very  undefined 
at  first  the  notion  was  that  a school  should  be 
carried  on  in  connection  with  a workshop;  that 
the  men  in  this  workshop  should  be  the  teachers 
in  the  school,  and  that  the  pupils  in  the  school 
should  be  drafted  into  the  workshop  as  it  grew 
in  strength  and  certainty.  Wisdom  pronounced 
the  experiment,  from  a business  point  of  view, 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop . 153 

as  entirely  quixotic,  and  precedent  for  it  there 
was  none. 

“The  little  Guild  of  three  members  to  begin 
with,  and  the  larger  School  of  some  fifty  mem- 
bers was,  however,  started  in  its  present  form ; 
the  top  floor  of  a warehouse  in  Commercial  Street 
was  taken  for  two  years  to  serve  as  workshop  and 
school-room  combined;  it  was  polychromatized 
by  the  pupils,  and  the  Guild  and  School  celebrated 
its  inauguration  on  June  23,  1888.  A kindly  pub- 
lic gave  the  funds  for  supporting  the  School  for 
two  trial  years;  while  the  Guild,  launching  as 
an  independent  venture,  announced  its  intention 
of  taking  up  three  lines  of  practical  work : wood- 
work, metal-work,  and  decorative  painting,  and 
intimated  the  ambitious  hope  that  it  would  one 
day  take  over  the  School,  for  which  purpose, 
when  formulating  its  constitution,  it  laid  by  a first 
charge  on  its  profits.  The  little  workship  in  Com- 
mercial Street  saw  many  vicissitudes  and  unex- 
pected developments.  Strange  new  things  had 
to  be  learnt,  new  conditions  and  new  experi- 
ences. The  introduction  among  its  members 
of  some  of  the  leading  trades-unionist  work- 
men — an  indispensable  element  in  the  solving 
of  an  industrial  problem  — gave  to  the  Guild 


154  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

that  peculiar  character  which  has  been  the  prin- 
cipal reason  of  its  success  so  far.  The  marriage 
between  the  stolid,  uncompromising,  co-operative 
force  of  trades-unionism,  and  the  spirit  that  makes 
for  a high  standard  of  excellence  in  English  Art 
and  Handicraft,  has  so  far  proved  a fortunate 
one;  and  a younger  generation  is  already  begin- 
ning to  tell  of  a life  and  tradition  of  its  own. 
We  look  back  now  with  wonder  to  the  circulars 
issued  in  the  days  of  the  beginnings,  and  ask  how 
far  the  original  intention  has  been  warped,  and 
changed,  and  twisted;  but  the  central  ideas  have 
been  always  maintained,  that  the  movement  shall 
be  a workman’s  movement,  that  it  shall  be  one 
for  the  nobility  and  advance  of  English  Art  and 
Handicraft,  that  it  shall  be  developed  not  on  the 
basis  of  mastership,  in  the  ordinary  sense,  but 
co-operatively  as  an  industrial  partnership,  and 
that  the  arts  and  crafts,  united  in  the  Guild, 
shall  be  the  children  of  the  mother  art  of  archi- 
tecture. This  is  the  basis  upon  which  all  has 
been  built  up.” 

The  original  notice  as  to  the  objects  of  the 
Guild  and  School  was  as  follows : “ The  Guild 
and  School  of  Handicraft  has  for  its  object  the  ap- 
plication of  Art  and  Industry.  It  is  a Co-operative 
Society  of  Workmen,  working  out  original  de- 


The  Reconstructed  Workshop . 155 

signs,  either  of  their  own  or  such  as  may  be  sub- 
mitted to  them  from  without.  In  connection 
with,  and  dependent  on  it,  is  a School  of  about 
one  hundred  working  men  and  boys.  Its  effort 
is  to  apply  the  Guild  System  of  Mediaeval  Italy 
to  modern  industrial  needs,  and  to  the  move- 
ment for  Technical  Education.” 

The  Essex  House,  located  on  the  edge  of 
Whitechapel,  is  now,  after  many  years  of  experi- 
ment, a flourishing  industrial  institution,  with  the 
original  principle  of  co-operation  still  in  force, 
and  the  guild  idea  fully  worked  out,  though  the 
instructional  feature  is  held  in  abeyance.  To  a 
question  asked  if  the  Guild  of  Handicraft  was 
not  merely  a business  enterprise,  Mr.  Ashbee 
gave  an  answer  which  is  characteristic  of  those 
who  have  to  do  with  the  new  industrialism.  He 
said  : “ This  is  not  the  case.  There  are  many  of 
us  in  the  Guild — I for  one — who,  if  it  were  a 
mere  business  enterprise,  would  have  no  further 
interest  in  it.  Mere  business  we  could  pursue 
more  profitably  elsewhere,  and  unencumbered  with 
altruism.  It  is  just  because  of  the  nature  of  its 
constitution,  and  in  what  it  seeks  to  produce,  that 
the  Guild  is  a protest  against  modern  business 
methods,  against  the  trade  point  of  view,  against 
the  commercial  spirit.”  Then  when  asked  if  this 


156  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

did  not  mean  the  mixing  of  sentiment  with  busi- 
ness, he  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  retorted: 
“ The  great  businesses  of  England,  could  their 
histories  be  written,  would  often  be  found  to  have 
had  in  them  some  other  than  merely  the  pecuniary 
objective.  They  are  voiceless  for  the  most  part 
because  they  have  been  built  up  by  men  that  do 
not  talk.  But  every  now  and  then  we  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  unexpected  workings  of  these  sen- 
timental considerations.  In  one  of  the  letters  of 
the  great  house  of  Wedgwood,  which  old  Josiah, 
the  potter,  founded  in  the  middle  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, appears  the  following,  written  to  Bendy  on 
whom  he  is  urging  the  partnership:  cYou  have 
taste,  the  best  foundation  for  our  intended  con- 
cern, and  which  must  be  our  primum  mobile , for 
without  that,  all  would  stand  still,  or  better  it  did 
so/  And  the  great  house  still  exists  in  the  Mid- 
lands, for  all  the  decay  and  taste  that  later  and 
more  commercial  times  may  have  brought  with 
them.  The  point  to  be  noted  is  that  it  was  a 
sentimental  consideration  that  inspired  its  found- 
ing, and  that  the  founders  knew  how  to  apply  the 
sentiment.  And  so  I fancy  with  many  of  the 
great  businesses,  they  would  probable  be  found 
to  have  in  them  some  quality  of  Idealism  however 
slight,  some  sense  of  a need  towards  the  raising 


An  Ideal  Workshop.  157 

of  the  standard  of  life,  some  inspiration  of  a better 
taste,  a more  useful  purpose,  however  misdirected, 
some  further  object  than  the  mere  increase  of  the 
margin  of  profit,  unconscious  no  doubt,  but  none 
the  less  present,  the  c primum  mobile ’ in  the  words 
of  that  old  business  man  and  Idealist,  which,  if 
misapplied,  would  stand  condemned  as  sentiment 
in  business,  but  which,  if  rightly  applied,  becomes 
its  justification,  its  first  principle.” 

From  these  and  other  sayings  it  will  appear 
that  Ashbee  continues  the  traditions  of  Ruskin 
and  Morris  in  attempting  to  humanize  business 
and  industry. 

V.  Rookwood : An  Ideal  Workshop. 

“The  social  question,”  said  Mr.  Ashbee,  in  his 
fifth  aphorism,  “ has  prior  claim  to  the  artistic.” 
The  world  slowly  adjusts  itself  to  the  truth  of 
this  statement.  The  question  of  art  is  altogether 
a question  of  social  reform.  Art  must  grow  out 
of  the  life.  If  the  life  is  not  so  ordered  that  art  will 
appear  as  its  crown  and  fulfilment  it  is  idle  to  fos- 
ter and  upbuild  it.  To  give  it  independent  devel- 
opment is  to  preserve  the  empty  form  and  overlook 
the  informing  and  vitalizing  spirit.  Those  who 
prate  most  of  art  are  not  the  true  promoters  so 
much  as  the  thinkers,  the  social  reformers,  who 


1 58  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

are  trying  to  reach  a status  of  true  liberty,  to  de- 
stroy slavery  of  every  kind,  to  humanize  indus- 
try, and  to  introduce  other  motives  into  production 
than  the  commercial  and  mechanical  ones.  Hence 
the  Arts  and  Crafts  movement,  with  its  principle 
of  co-operative  individualism,  is  brought  into  har- 
mony with  some  of  the  deepest  thought  tendencies 
of  the  times ; with  such  books  as  George's  “ Pro- 
gress and  Poverty,”  Kropotkin's  “ Farm,  Field, 
and  Factory,''  Tolstoy's  “The  Slavery  of  Our 
Times,''  Edward  Carpenter's  “Angels'  Wings,” 
and  “ Towards  Democracy,”  Whitman's  “ Leaves 
of  Grass,”  Crosby’s  “ Plain  Talk  in  Psalm  and 
Parable,”  and  the  writings  of  Bolton  Hall.  For 
when  the  present  system  is  outworn,  and  a more 
just  and  equal  order  is  established,  the  order  for 
which  these  writers  are  laboring,  industry  will  be 
the  crown  of  life,  and  art  the  crown  of  industry. 
Art  on  any  other  terms  than  the  contentment  of 
a well-ordered  and  consistent  life  is  undesired  and 
undesirable. 

So  long  as  the  factory  is  organized  to  the  end 
of  making  profits  for  some  owner  and  director, 
an  issue  of  production  in  art  is  practically  impos- 
sible. The  wage  slavery  of  the  factory  forbids 
art;  the  machine  forbids  it;  competition  forbids 
it;  the  methods  of  designing  and  executing  by 


An  Ideal  Workshop . 159 

division  of  labor  are  against  it.  The  factories 
that  are  so  constituted  that  their  products  rise  to 
the  plane  of  art  may  be  counted  on  the  fingers 
of  one  hand.  These  few,  conducting  business 
within  the  present  system,  but  with  higher  mo- 
tives, may  be  referred  to  as  indicating  also  the 
tendency  toward  workshop  reconstruction.  Chief 
among  the  factories  that  undertake  production 
from  the  instinct  for  beauty — and  which  enjoy 
also  commercial  success— may  be  counted  the 
Rookwood  Pottery  at  Cincinnati.  Instituted  as 
a private  industrial  experiment  by  Mrs.  Maria 
Longworth  Storer  in  1880,  it  has  grown  in  twenty 
years  to  a position  of  public  importance  and  of 
far-reaching  influence.  The  aspects  of  its  organi- 
zation and  work  that  bear  upon  our  present  theme 
may  be  briefly  considered.  Three  factors  evi- 
dently conspire  to  make  the  Rookwood  Pottery 
what  it  is — the  founder,  the  workmen,  and  the 
public. 

The  Rookwood  Pottery  has — so  to  speak — a 
soul.  A woman's  intelligence  and  affection  went 
to  its  upbuilding.  It  is  established  upon  a person. 
Upon  this  fact  all  other  features  of  the  factory  de- 
pend. The  motive  that  controlled  the  enterprise 
from  the  beginning  was  the  desire  to  produce  a 
perfect  product.  Below  this  must  have  been  the 


160  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

intention  to  perform  a social  service  in  perfecting 
a given  product.  But  perfection  is  fugitive — how 
secure  it  in  a workshop  involving  many  hands 
and  minds. 

Though  the  management  of  the  business  is 
centered  in  a board  of  directors,  the  fullest  possible 
freedom  is  given  to  the  workmen ; they  are  en- 
couraged to  experiment,  to  express  their  own 
individuality,  and  to  increase  their  culture  by 
study  and  travel.  The  spirit  of  the  factory  is 
that  of  co-operation  and  good  fellowship.  Mr. 
Taylor,  the  genial  director,  calls  himself  cc  the 
arbiter,”  expecting  initiation  from  his  associates. 
From  the  first  the  problems  have  been  solved  as 
they  have  arisen  from  the  inside.  The  factory 
consequently  has  its  traditions,  and  its  products 
represent  organic  growth.  Its  art  is  as  indigenous 
as  that  of  the  first  potter.  The  principle  of  con- 
struction is  to  adjust  design  sympathetically  to 
shape  and  material.  No  printing-patterns  are  per- 
mitted, and  no  copying  or  imitation  is  allowed. 
Division  of  labor  is  practiced  sufficient  to  insure 
technical  skill  but  not  to  the  extent  of  destroying 
unity  of  design.  This  one  fact,  unity  of  design, 
that  for  which  Rookwood  is  especially  noted,  is  itself 
an  evidence  of  the  unity  of  the  workers,  their  ab- 
sorption in  a common  purpose.  Let  discord  enter 


An  Ideal  Workshop . 1 6 1 

or  dissatisfaction  be  felt,  or  let  the  pride  of  any 
worker  assert  itself,  or  the  authority  of  the  director 
be  unduly  exercised,  and  the  effect  is  recorded  at 
once  in  the  product.  The  problem  of  uniting  a 
workshop  of  large  membership  would  seem  to 
be  solved  here  by  the  cultivation  of  human  sym- 
pathy— that  delicate  something  that  is  the  source 
of  all  high  endeavor. 

But  the  pottery  is  not  merely  a workshop ; 
it  is  in  a sense  a school  of  handicraft,  an  indus- 
trial art  museum,  and  a social  center.  The  crafts- 
men, creating  and  initiating  on  their  own  ground, 
constantly  improve  in  skill  and  character.  By  the 
employment  of  apprentices  the  workshop  could 
be  at  once  transformed  into  a school.  A portion 
of  the  building  is  now  devoted  to  exhibition. 
By  means  of  lectures,  and  other  entertainments 
at  the  pottery,  the  public  participates  in  some 
degree  in  the  enterprise,  and  by  reaction  shapes 
the  product.  Here  are  all  the  elements  needed 
for  the  ideal  workshop  — a self-directing  shop, 
an  incidental  school  of  craft,  and  an  associative 
public.  Standing  high  on  the  edge  of  Mt.  Adams, 
an  attractive  building  in  a fair  environment  — the 
building  an  interesting  example  of  Early  English 
architecture,  with  roof  of  tile  and  walls  of  cement 
decorated  by  scratchwork  — it  is  even  now  a model 


1 62  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

factory.  Its  motive,  its  management,  its  prin- 
ciples of  work,  its  fine  artistic  production  — all 
distinguish  it  from  contemporary  factories.  With 
only  slight  changes,  by  the  development  of  forces 
already  implicit,  such  a workshop  as  the  re- 
formers have  dreamed  of  could  be  here  and 
now  created. 

VI.  The  Development  of  Industrial 
Consciousness . 

The  Arts  and  Crafts  movement  is  the  indus- 
trial phase  of  the  modern  evolution  of  individu- 
ality. For  several  centuries  the  conditions  of  life 
have  tended  to  produce  a general  uniformity 
of  civilization  within  the  bounds  of  large  social 
groups.  Nations  have  been  unified  under  the 
impulse  of  a more  or  less  artificial  patriotism, 
induced  largely  by  the  stress  of  wars  which  have 
been  undertaken  as  a means  of  self-preservation, 
protection,  or  expansion.  Industrial  war,  con- 
ducted by  means  of  competition  within  nations, 
and  by  means  of  “ protection  ” between  nations, 
has  tended  also  to  solidify  more  or  less  arbitrary 
groups  of  industrial  agents.  From  the  point 
of  view  of  unity,  the  United  States  of  America, 
regarded  both  politically  and  industrially,  is  cer- 
tainly a sublime  spectacle.  And  when  one  con- 


Industrial  Consciousness . 163 

ceives  the  possibility  of  uniting  North  and  South 
America,  and  the  Americas  with  a united  Europe, 
and  of  federating  eventually  the  entire  world, 
the  vision  is  more  than  sublime.  The  time 
must  come  when  the  earth  will  be  partitioned 
and  equilibrium  established.  The  necessity  for 
uniformity  will  then  cease,  nationalism  will  be- 
come functionless,  and  conditions  will  conduce 
to  the  survival  of  variations.  At  the  present 
time  the  very  fierceness  of  the  struggle  for  uni- 
formity compels  hypocrisy  and  false  swearing, 
and  these  lead  to  protest  and  reaction.  Even 
while  the  tendency  toward  unity  is  strongest  the 
discontent  with  uniformity  is  greatest  also,  and 
the  more  vigorous  personalities  are  withdrawing 
from  political  policies,  and  religious  orthodoxies 
and  educational  and  industrial  systems,  and  are 
thinking  and  acting  individually;  and  strangely 
enough  the  more  individualistic  men  become  the 
more  universal  and  genuinely  united  they  find 
themselves  to  be.  Philosophic  anarchy  is,  in  short, 
the  virtual  belief  of  some  of  the  most  conspicuous 
leaders  of  the  present  day.  The  tendency  toward 
uniformity  may  continue  for  yet  a century,  but 
even  now  the  thought  that  will  destroy  it  is 
taking  shape.  Examine  whatever  field  you  will, 
the  signs  of  transition  are  made  manifest. 


164  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

The  new  definitions  of  art  are  formulated  by 
Morris  and  Tolstoy.  Let  the  terms  be  noted 
and  their  import  fairly  considered.  “ By  art  I 
understand,”  said  Morris,  C£  the  pleasure  of  life.” 
Such  a definition  at  once  universalizes  art  and 
individualizes  it.  For  pleasure  is,  or  may  become, 
universal,  but  when  universal  it  is  least  uniform. 
Let  all  men  share  in  art;  let  all,  that  is,  do  what 
gives  them  pleasure,  or  do  that  which  gives  pleas- 
ure to  others,  and  the  individuality  of  the  maker 
and  user  is  forthwith  outdrawn  and  exercised. 
The  uniform  machine  - made  products  of  the 
present  day  — uniform  because  impersonal  and 
for  the  “average” — are  made  without  pleasure 
and  produce  no  pleasure;  they  spring  from  pain, 
and  if  not  actively  painful  to  the  user,  yield  but 
little  satisfaction.  The  workers  are  pained  be- 
cause they  must  subdue  themselves  to  the  system, 
must  hold  in  abeyance  their  own  affections  and 
thoughts  and  imaginings,  must  become  an  im- 
personal machine  serving  another  impersonal  ma- 
chine. The  theologians  have  never  imagined 
a more  painful  hell  than  the  actual  factories 
economists  have  constructed,  wherein  a man  is 
hopelessly  engaged  in  the  performance  of  one 
never-ending  and  abhorrent  task.  In  distribu- 
tion also  the  goods  thus  made  are  dissevered 


Industrial  Consciousness . 165 

from  personality.  Of  necessity  the  consolidated 
factory,  making  uniform  wares  by  wholesale,  labors 
for  no  one  individual,  but  for  an  abstract  average 
individual  — a person  who  has  of  course  no  real 
being.  When  the  consumer  finds  in  the  goods 
he  has  purchased  no  real  fitness,  no  response 
to  his  needs,  no  appeal  to  memory  or  associ- 
ations, no  real  adjustment  between  the  body  and 
its  garments,  he  can  experience  no  genuine  pleas- 
ure or  rational  satisfaction  — in  most  cases  the 
shoes  actually  pinch  his  feet,  and  the  clothes  con- 
strain some  part  of  the  body.  The  fault  is  not 
with  the  materials,  or  with  the  form — -considered 
abstractly  — and  not  in  workmanship  or  the  style ; 
still  there  is  no  pleasure  to  the  user.  Unless 
goods  that  are  costly,  perfect  in  their  work- 
manship, tasteful  in  their  design,  serve  an  indi- 
vidual need,  they  are  inappropriate,  and  in  reality 
ugly  and  painful.  If  on  the  other  hand  the  article 
evidences  the  maker’s  pleasure,  his  affection  for 
his  work,  his  play  of  memory  and  intelligence 
and  faith,  or  if  it  is  constructed  with  reference 
to  another’s  need,  and  represents  some  claim 
of  the  soul  for  outer  garment;  if,  in  fine,  the 
work  be  individualized,  it  becomes  to  that  de- 
gree a work  of  art,  a part  of  the  pleasure  of  men’s 
lives,  the  source  of  happiness.  When  once  the 


1 66  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

habit  of  pleasurable  labor  is  established,  then 
it  will  be  possible  for  all  to  take  a pleasur- 
able interest  in  the  details  of  life,  to  feel  our- 
selves a part  of  nature,  and  thoughtfully  and 
without  distraction  note  the  course  of  our  lives 
amidst  the  events  that  make  up  the  whole  of  hu- 
manity. Then  art  will  be  synonymous  with  life, 
and  the  very  activity  of  life  will  be  an  artistic 
activity.  As  life  is  now,  under  the  compulsion 
of  uniformity,  it  is  anxious,  inhuman,  inartistic, 
empty.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  Morris's  defini- 
tion of  art  is  social  in  its  bearing.  It  implies 
the  modern  necessity  of  building  up  the  orna- 
mental part  of  life,  its  pleasures  of  every  nature, 
on  the  basis  of  work  undertaken  cheerfully,  with 
the  consciousness  of  helping  ourselves  and  our 
fellows. 

In  his  volume  cc  What  is  Art  ? " Tolstoy  offers 
a definition  that  accords  closely  with  that  of  Mor- 
ris, though  perhaps  with  a wider  view  of  what 
constitutes  social  well-being.  Tolstoy's  treatment 
of  the  theme  is  consciously  revolutionary.  He 
abandons  the  current  theories  of  beauty,  the  theo- 
ries that  make  beauty  something  “ fine,"  abstract, 
exclusive,  perceiving  that  so  long  as  the  world 
upholds  such  theories  art  will  tend  more  and 
more  to  separate  itself  from  life,  and  lead  a poor, 


Industrial  Consciousness . 167 

thin  existence  with  the  privileged  and  esoteric 
cults.  As  a matter  of  social  justice  it  is  neces- 
sary to  re-establish  art  among  the  people,  and 
restore  to  toil  its  natural  solace.  The  definition 
of  art  founded  upon  the  current  metaphysics  of 
beauty  is  a class  definition,  and  is  intended  to 
preserve  the  upper  classes  in  their  special  privi- 
leges of  culture  and  “taste.”  After  centuries  of 
exclusiveness  art  has  become  perverted,  is  devoid 
of  natural  and  spontaneous  feeling,  and  is  gen- 
erally incomprehensible,  and  in  truth  “decadent.” 
To  bring  art  back  to  the  people,  and  make  it 
universal  in  its  appeal,  we  are  required  to  start  an 
entirely  new  definition,  and  to  understand  art  not 
as  a possession  for  a select  minority,  but  as  a 
means  toward  human  perfection  and  the  brotherly 
union  of  mankind.  The  inaccuracy  of  previous 
definitions  arises  from  the  fact  that  in  them  art  is 
considered  as  an  end  in  itself,  or  as  a means  of 
pleasure  to  a specially  equipped  class  of  persons; 
whereas  the  true  view  is  to  consider  art  as  one  of 
the  conditions  of  human  life,  a means  of  intercourse 
between  man  and  man.  “The  activity  of  art,” 
Tolstoy  says,  “is  based  on  the  fact  that  a man, 
receiving  through  his  sense  of  hearing  or  sight 
another  man’s  expression  of  feeling,  is  capable  of 
experiencing  the  emotion  which  moved  the  man 


1 68  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

who  expressed  it.”  From  this  fact  the  definition 
of  art  is  deduced:  “Art  is  a human  activity  con- 
sisting in  this,  that  one  man  consciously,  by  means 
of  certain  external  signs,  hands  on  to  others  feel- 
ings he  has  lived  through,  and  that  other  people 
are  infected  by  these  feelings,  and  also  experience 
them.”  It  follows  from  this  that  the  purpose  of 
art  is  to  create  the  sense  of  kinship:  “Art  is  a 
means  of  union  among  men,  joining  them  together 
in  the  same  feelings,  and  indispensable  for  the  life 
and  progress  towards  well-being  of  individuals  and 
of  humanity.”  The  activity  of  art  is,  therefore,  a 
general  activity,  as  widely  diffused  and  as  common 
as  speech  itself.  Art  and  speech  are  indeed  the 
two  organs  of  human  progress ; by  speech  we 
convey  thoughts,  by  art  we  interchange  feelings. 
Of  course  with  perverted  ideas  of  art,  and  on  the 
supposition  that  the  art  of  the  upper  classes  is  the 
whole  of  art,  it  has  come  about  that  only  a small 
fraction  of  the  people  of  Christendom  make  any 
use  of  art  or  even  understand  it.  And  this  fact 
of  exclusiveness  in  art  points  to  a social  condition 
wherein  the  masses  of  the  people  are  in  virtual 
slavery  to  the  privileged  classes. 

The  question  of  art  becomes  then  at  once  a 
social  question,  and  Tolstoy,  like  Morris,  requires 
a complete  revolution  of  the  social  system,  and  an 


Industrial  Consciousness.  169 

entire  change  in  the  ideals  of  life.  Consequently 
the  art  of  the  future  will  not  be  a development 
of  the  art  of  the  present;  it  will  not  increase  by 
educating  the  masses  to  the  standards  of  the  classes, 
but  will  rise  on  wholly  new  foundations,  and  require 
entirely  new  modes  of  perception.  The  one  indu- 
bitable indication  of  real  art  is  its  infectiousness, 
and  the  degree  of  infection  is  the  sole  measure  of 
excellence.  The  degree  of  infection  depends  upon 
the  greater  or  less  individuality  of  the  feelings 
transmitted,  on  the  greater  or  less  clearness  with 
which  the  feeling  is  transmitted,  and  on  the  greater 
or  less  force  with  which  the  artist  himself  feels  the 
emotions  he  transmits.  The  more  individual  the 
feeling,  the  more  strongly  does  it  act  on  the  receiver. 
The  clearer  the  expression,  the  more  readily  is  it 
received  by  another.  And  the  more  sincere  the 
artist,  the  more  his  art  springs  out  of  an  inner 
need  for  expression,  the  greater  is  the  sympathy 
of  the  receiver  excited  for  its  reception.  The 
feeling,  moreover,  must  be  a common  feeling, 
which  all  can  share,  which  must  be  therefore  pro- 
foundly human,  and  relate  to  the  growing  religious 
perception  of  our  time  that  the  well-being  of  man- 
kind lies  in  the  growth  of  brotherhood  among  all 
men,  in  their  living  in  harmony  with  one  another. 
Freed  from  professionalism  and  criticism  and  the 


170  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

obligation  to  display  technique  and  to  produce 
startling  and  bizarre  effects,  freed,  too,  from  com- 
mercialism and  unseemly  strife,  the  artist  of  the 
new  day  will  live  the  common  life  of  man,  and 
his  work  will  be  accessible  to  all.  But  in  that 
time  art  will  be  produced  by  all  members  of  a 
community,  and  will  be  either  a factor  in  their 
daily  labor,  as  Morris  desired,  or  if  produced 
apart  from  a vocation,  will  be  in  answer  to  an 
irresistible  impulse  to  create. 

Morris's  definition  of  art  in  terms  of  pleasure, 
and  Tolstoy's  in  terms  of  infection,  have  practi- 
cally the  same  ground,  and  reach  essentially  the 
same  conclusion  : an  art  that  is  common  to  all,  yet 
one  that  admits  the  freest  play  of  individuality. 

Two  definitions  of  education  have  recently  been 
enunciated  by  prominent  educators,  that  repre- 
sent the  advance  in  educational  theory  corre- 
sponding to  the  stage  reached  by  Morris  and 
Tolstoy,  in  their  definitions  of  art,  and  display  like 
these  the  subtle  forces  in  modern  life  working 
for  democracy.  cc  Education,"  said  Francis  W. 
Parker,  “is  expression."  “ Education,"  says  John 
Dewey,  “is  life."  These  definitions  or  descrip- 
tions of  education  point  to  the  rejection  by  mod- 
ern thinkers  of  those  theories  that,  like  the  older 
definitions  of  art,  grew  up  from  the  social  order 


Industrial  Consciousness.  171 

of  feudalism,  and  maintained  the  cultural  classes 
in  their  positions  of  privilege.  Feudalistic  educa- 
tion had  learning  for  its  motive  and  discipline 
for  its  method.  The  priestly  and  noble  classes 
alone  possessed  the  key  of  knowledge,  the  capa- 
city of  translating  the  symbols  of  learning,  and 
imposed  upon  the  world  the  tyranny  of  culture. 
Secure  in  their  special  privileges,  these  classes 
enforced  on  their  underlings  the  forms  of  obedi- 
ence drawn  on  the  model  of  the  military,  and  by 
this  means  suppressed  the  disposition  on  the  part 
of  any  one  to  assert  his  own  nature  and  live  his 
own  life.  In  whatever  school  to-day  the  stress 
of  education  is  placed  upon  learning  and  intel- 
lectual culture,  in  the  manner  and  by  the  discipline 
prescribed  by  authority,  in  that  place  the  forces  of 
an  earlier  system  are  surviving.  But  wherever 
the  emphasis  is  withdrawn  from  teachers  and 
books  and  examinations,  and  placed  upon  the 
child,  regarded  as  a living  personality  with  a char- 
acter to  develop,  his  ends  to  seek,  and  his  social 
relations  to  realize,  there  are  the  evidences  of  the 
new  spirit  in  education. 

Of  necessity  the  new  educators,  like  Morris 
and  Tolstoy  in  their  spheres,  are  in  the  broad 
sense  of  the  term  socialists,  and  their  hands  reach 
out  not  merely  to  educate  the  child  in  terms  of 


172  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

self-activity,  but  to  shape  society  so  that  the  newly 
formed  individuality  may  not  be  thwarted  and 
destroyed  by  environment.  If  the  man  in  his 
industrial  activities  is  not  permitted  to  exercise 
his  individuality,  it  is  folly  to  educate  the  child  in 
freedom.  If  education  be  expression,  the  child's 
self-activity  cannot  stop  at  the  boundary  of  school- 
yards.  If  education  is  life,  then  the  general  life 
must  be  so  shaped  as  to  be  in  itself  educative.  In 
short,  the  new  education,  precisely  in  the  way  of 
the  new  art,  makes  culture  coincide  with  life,  and 
as  the  new  art  promises  to  destroy  the  profession- 
alism and  commercialism  of  the  special  artist,  so 
the  new  education  will  eventually  dispense  with 
school-systems,  all  external  machinery,  even  with 
teachers  as  they  are  now  known,  and  will  erect 
school-houses  on  an  entirely  new  model — I think 
probably  a building  modeled  on  the  idea  of  a 
workshop,  wherein  the  life  activity  of  the  young 
will  be  developed  at  the  freest  yet  with  the  most 
intimate  relationship  with  all  other  social  factors. 

The  subject  of  manual  training  will  serve  as  a 
text  for  further  discussion  of  this  thought.  Man- 
ual training  has  come  into  the  schools  but  recently, 
but  its  meaning  is  rapidly  growing  in  the  public 
mind.  Manual  training  is,  as  educators  know, 
but  another  name  for  self-activity.  It  is  a method 


Industrial  Consciousness . 173 

of  education,  and  its  spirit  pertains  to  every  class- 
room. Though  when  that  is  done,  the  “class,” 
with  all  its  traditional  methods  and  meanings, 
presently  dissolves,  and  the  room  itself  is  trans- 
formed into  something  new  and  strange.  It  is 
this  very  class-room,  with  its  teacher  in  authority, 
its  pupils  in  intellectual  vassalage,  its  text-books 
(another  form  of  authority),  its  recitations  and  ex- 
aminations, its  discipline,  traditions,  and  methods, 
that  manual  training- — entering  secretly  and  in 
disguise  by  way  of  a workshop  — has  come  to 
destroy.  It  has  come  also  to  create — to  create 
self-control,  self-activity,  sovereign  individuality. 
Through  its  agency  education  becomes  expression, 
and  tends  more  and  more  to  become  life. 

A greater  revolution  cannot  be  conceived  than 
that  taking  place  to-day  in  the  schools.  The 
movement  in  education  is  one  phase  of  a general 
emancipatory  movement  which  has  for  its  purpose 
the  complete  democratizing  of  the  modern  world. 
Morris  and  Tolstoy  foretold  the  democratization 
of  art,  which  means  the  association  of  art  and 
life.  The  new  education  promises  the  association 
of  education  and  life.  In  reality  art  and  educa- 
tion are  modes  of  the  same  activity,  and  they 
properly  coincide  in  the  larger  synthesis  we  call 
life. 


174  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

Considering  the  converging  lines  of  all  these 
tendencies,  I see  no  reason  why  the  workshop 
will  not  become  at  once  the  school  and  the  fac- 
tory. But  this  would  mean  an  industrial  revo- 
lution. It  would  mean  that  the  workshop  would 
aim  to  minister  to  the  well-being  of  the  workers, 
and  not  merely  to  make  wares  for  sale.  It  would 
mean  that  men  and  women  would  take  pleasure 
in  their  work,  that  their  work  was  in  line  with 
their  ideals.  It  would  mean  that  by  their  work 
they  would  be  attached  to  the  past  of  life,  and 
be  brought  into  contact  with  their  fellows.  But 
a humanized  workshop  has  yet  to  be  evolved. 
Before  industrialism  can  join  with  art  and  edu- 
cation it  must  pass  through  a long  evolution,  be 
disciplined  by  suffering,  and  tried  by  success.  It 
is  the  part  of  the  twentieth  century  to  reconstruct 
the  workshop,  and  to  train  for  citizenship  in  an 
industrial  Commonwealth. 

Industrialism  is  now  at  the  point  of  creating 
and  enforcing  its  feudal  discipline.  The  French 
Revolution  marked  the  end  of  political  feudalism 
and  the  rise  of  industrial  feudalism  — the  attain- 
ment, that  is,  of  practical  political  equality  and 
the  first  stage  of  industrial  organization.  Prac- 
tically all  the  incidents  of  Western  peoples  since 
the  Revolution  have  had  industrial  bearing  though 


Industrial  Consciousness . 175 

generally  described  in  terms  of  politics.  The  three 
great  American  wars,  though  apparently  one  was 
fought  for  political  independence,  the  second  for 
political  union,  and  the  third  for  political  expan- 
sion, were  in  reality  industrial  incidents,  represent- 
ing different  phases  of  the  establishment  of  the 
industrial  regime  in  the  new  world.  Either  through 
blindness  or  policy,  the  men  who  formulated  the 
American  governmental  papers  have  written  them 
in  political  verbiage,  obscuring  the  real  facts  of  in- 
dustrial evolution.  Meanwhile  the  farms  have  been 
cleared,  mines  have  been  opened,  canals  and  rail- 
roads have  been  constructed,  engines  and  ma- 
chines have  been  invented,  capital  has  accumulated, 
laborers  have  formed  their  unions,  and  the  great 
industries  are  in  process  of  organization.  In  the 
organization  of  industry  the  model  of  political  mon- 
archy has  necessarily  been  followed.  Monarchy  cir- 
cumscribed the  egotistic  claims  of  individuals,  put 
an  end  to  private  wars,  economized  the  political 
energy  of  peoples,  and  afforded  the  necessary 
training  ground  for  the  evolution  among  the 
people  of  the  consciousness  of  government.  With- 
out the  assumption  of  a throne  by  a king,  and  the 
acceptance  of  these  symbols  of  kingship  by  a people, 
the  absorption  of  the  functions  of  government  by 
the  people  could  never  have  taken  place.  Feder- 


176  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

alism  was  the  first  step  in  transition  from  mon- 
archy to  democracy.  The  next  stage  is  that  of 
“ anarchism,”  which,  politically  speaking,  means 
control  of  one’s  self  in  all  matters  relating  to  the 
self  and  to  one’s  fellows.  By  federal  government 
the  king  was  rendered  impotent;  by  the  exercise 
of  self-control  state  and  national  governments 
are  rendered  unnecessary.  In  America  the  stage 
of  anarchism  has  been  reached  by  multitudes 
of  citizens;  and  legislatures,  in  so  far  as  they 
are  merely  law-making  bodies,  have  less  and  less 
meaning  and  function,  surviving  as  the  English 
throne  survives,  as  the  symbol  of  the  past.  The 
real  government  in  America  is  not  at  Washington 
or  in  any  State  Capital,  but  in  the  minds  of  the 
men  and  women  who  dwell  within  the  bounds 
of  the  continent.  The  evolution  of  political  gov- 
ernments is  practically  finished.  Certainly  every 
person  capable  of  self-rule  is  granted  that  privi- 
lege. There  may  still  be  questions  arising  respect- 
ing suffrage;  the  rights  of  peoples,  like  the  Boers, 
to  political  independence ; the  rights  of  island 
peoples,  like  the  Philippines,  to  autonomy;  the 
rights  of  peoples,  like  the  Chinese,  to  their  ancient 
customs ; but  nevertheless  the  vital  interests  of  the 
world  are  not  in  these  questions.  The  Boers  lose 
their  independence,  the  Philippines  pass  under 


Industrial  Consciousness . 177 

American  wardship,  the  Chinese  suffer  the  inter- 
vention of  Western  powers:  a century  ago  no 
one  of  these  incidents  could  have  happened. 
Public  opinion  almost  universally  would  have 
been  strong  in  opposition.  That  the  people  who 
revere  Washington  pursued  Aguinaldo  is  a sign 
of  the  passing  of  political  consciousness.  In  some 
way  these  oppressed  peoples  are  the  victims  of  his- 
tory ; as  those  who  are  called  cc  social  degenerates  ” 
from  the  point  of  view  of  a higher  civilization  are 
victims,  so  to  speak,  of  that  civilization  ; or  as  the 
South  American  Republics,  in  assuming  repub- 
licanism before  receiving  the  discipline  necessary 
to  republics,  are  a sacrifice,  as  it  were,  of  Fate. 

The  new  civilization  that  is  usurping  the  place 
of  the  legal  and  political  order  is  industrial.  An 
industrial  civilization  is  not  a government  of  laws 
but  a co-partnership  of  men.  “Industry,”  said 
Frederic  Harrison,  “is  essentially  republican;  its 
life  is  the  free  co-operation  of  intelligent  masses 
of  men.”  It  follows  the  industrial  relationship, 
is  personal  and  not  legal,  even  while  society  is 
divided  into  the  classes  of  the  capitalists  and  the 
laborers,  the  exploiters  and  the  exploited,  the 
organizers  and  the  organized.  In  the  present 
relationship  all  the  features  of  feudalism  are  found. 
And  as  the  world  is  only  at  the  beginning  of  its 


178  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

industrial  evolution  it  is  likely  that  the  process 
will  run  parallel  at  all  points  with  the  develop- 
ment of  government.  The  old  domestic  system 
of  industry,  which  the  factory  system  superseded, 
was  simply  undifferentiated  and  unorganized  indus- 
try. Corresponding  to  the  political  era  of  petty  war- 
fare was  the  period  of  competition.  Competition 
has  been  the  agent  for  the  selection  of  the  strong 
and  the  elimination  of  the  weak.  It  has  created 
<c  Captains  of  Industry  ” on  one  side,  and  an  army 
of  workmen  reduced  to  order,  and  compelled  to 
service,  on  the  other.  Industrial  monarchy  is  now 
forming.  The  word  cc  king  ” is  constantly  used 
to  describe  the  great  magnates.  It  will  be  the 
work  of  the  twentieth  century  to  establish  the 
industrial  king  in  a commanding  position ; his 
function  will  be,  of  course,  not  to  make  laws  for 
his  subjects,  but  to  provide  materials  and  set 
the  task  for  labor.  The  king  is  necessary  for 
the  development  of  industrial  consciousness. 

A college  president  was  quoted  not  long  since 
as  saying  that  in  twenty  years  an  emperor  might 
be  ruling  in  Washington.  If  the  function  of  such 
an  emperor  be  political,  and  he  sits  at  Washington, 
he  can  do  no  harm.  Political  machinery  is  too 
cumbersome,  too  antiquated,  for  industrial  uses. 
State  socialism,  within  the  boundaries,  and  accord- 


Industrial  Consciousness . 179 

ing  to  the  fiction  of  a state,  is  forever  impossible. 
Industry  recognizes  no  false  boundaries.  The 
king  will  stand  at  strategic  points,  where  ma- 
terials are  most  accessible  and  laborers  most  nu- 
merous. The  “ trust  ” is  the  type  of  organization 
that  will  prevail  during  the  period  of  monarchy. 
Already  trusts  are  incorporated  with  charters, 
permitting  the  conduct  of  an  almost  universal 
business.  The  universal  trust,  of  which  we  have 
read  in  humorous  fiction,  is  a present  possibility. 
One  day  the  trust  of  trusts  will  be  formed;  its 
president  will  be  at  the  center  of  a splendid  organ- 
ization ; without  friction  or  opposition  of  any 
kind  he  will  control  the  wheels  of  industry.  With 
the  perfection  of  this  organization,  and  the  de- 
velopment in  the  minds  of  all  of  an  industrial 
consciousness,  the  end  of  the  monarchical  stage 
will  have  been  reached ; then  will  begin  the  ab- 
sorption by  the  workers  of  the  function  of  the 
king,  and  some  form  of  republicanism  will  be 
inaugurated.  “An  industrial  world/’  said  Fred- 
eric Harrison,  “ is  a republican  world.  And  the 
republican  world  is  one  in  which  the  state  be- 
longs to  all,  exists  for  all,  and  lives  by  the  help 
and  good-will  of  all.”  But  the  final  and  per- 
manent stage  is  democracy — the  stage  of  indus- 
trial freedom  and  equality.  Then  once  more  the 


180  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

individual  will  rise  to  his  full  stature,  and  the 
principles  which  are  now  dimly  perceived  and 
vaguely  practiced  by  artists  and  craftsmen  will 
be  fully  operative. 

One  of  the  first  signs  of  the  development  of  in- 
dustrial consciousness  was  the  change  in  the  world’s 
attitude  toward  work.  In  an  aristocracy  work  is 
condemned;  education  is  directed  to  securing 
a personal  culture,  purely  passive  in  its  nature, 
which  will  enable  an  idle  nobility  to  live  con- 
tentedly in  courtly  fashion,  in  romantic  war, 
in  sports,  or  happily  in  a palace  of  art.  In  indus- 
trialism idleness  is  condemned  and  work  is  ex- 
tolled, and  the  instinct  for  workmanship  overcomes 
the  leisuristic  habit.  In  an  aristocracy  the  learned 
professions  simulate  the  graces  of  the  nobility ; 
in  industrialism  the  professions  lose  their  im- 
portance, the  best  minds  finding  their  freest  ex- 
ercise in  originating  and  controlling  industrial 
enterprises,  or  in  engaging  in  some  higher  form 
of  craft.  At  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury the  legitimacy  and  the  necessity  of  work 
are  fully  recognized.  A passage  from  a recent  ad- 
dress by  Bishop  Spalding,  on  “Work  and  Leisure,” 
may  illustrate  this  phase  of  the  theoretical  accept- 
ance of  labor: 

“Life  is  energy,”  said  the  Bishop;  “we  feel 


Industrial  Consciousness . 1 8 i 

ourselves  only  in  doing,  and  when  we  inquire 
what  a man's  value  is,  we  ask  what  is  his  per- 
formance. The  deed  is  the  proof  of  faith,  the 
test  of  character,  and  the  standard  of  worth.  To  do 
nothing  is  to  be  nobody,  and  to  have  done  is  to 
have  been.  True  work  fixes  attention,  develops 
ability,  and  enriches  life ; it  strengthens  the  mind, 
forms  the  will,  and  inures  to  patience  and  endur- 
ance. It  is  what  we  do  and  suffer  to  overcome 
nature's  indifference  and  hostility  to  man’s  well- 
being and  progress  ; it  is  the  means  whereby  what 
is  not  ourselves  is  taken  hold  of  and  made  to  do 
us  service.  True  work,  then,  is  furtherance  of  life, 
and  it  cannot  be  rightly  understood  unless  it  is 
looked  at  in  this  light." 

Of  great  significance  in  this  connection  is  the 
appearance  of  the  magazine  entitled  The  World's 
Work.  Commenting  upon  American  life,  the 
editor  in  the  first  issue  reached  this  generalization  : 

“ In  American  life,  as  the  century  ends,  the 
keynote  is  the  note  of  joyful  achievement;  and 
its  faith  is  an  evangelical  faith  in  a democracy  that 
broadens  as  fast  as  social  growth  invites.  The 
republic  has  been  extended,  held  together,  again 
extended,  and  it  is  still  the  harbor  of  refuge  and 
the  beacon  of  civilization.  Its  influence  has  broad- 
ened the  thought  of  the  Old  World,  and  is  now 


1 8 2 The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

felt  in  the  oldest  world.  It  is  liberalizing  kings 
toward  their  uncrowning,  and  softening  class  dis- 
tinctions, and  it  is  making  all  artificial  authority 
obsolete.  Its  century  of  action  and  of  social  ex- 
periment has  turned  all  formal  philosophies  into 
curiosities  of  literature.  It  has  now  yielded  ma- 
terial for  a new  period  of  constructive  thought.” 

And  in  defense  of  the  dignity  and  idealism  of 
his  field  the  editor  made  annoucement: 

“The  higher  organization  of  industry  has  for 
half  a century  engaged  the  kind  of  minds  that 
once  founded  colonies,  built  cathedrals,  led  armies, 
and  practiced  statecraft;  and  to  an  increasing  num- 
ber, work  has  become  less  and  less  a means  of 
bread-winning  and  more  and  more  a form  of  noble 
exercise.  The  artist  always  took  joy  in  his  work; 
it  is  the  glory  of  our  time  that  the  man  of  affairs 
can  find  a similar  pleasure  in  his  achievements. 

ccIt  is  with  the  activities  of  the  newly  organized 
world,  its  problems,  and  even  its  romance,  that 
this  magazine  will  earnestly  concern  itself,  trying 
to  convey  the  cheerful  spirit  of  men  who  do 
things.” 

The  world  is  nearly  ready  to  accept  the  truth 
of  these  propositions.  But  it  seems  not  to  be 
generally  understood  that  if  the  kind  of  mind 
that  once  founded  colonies,  built  cathedrals,  and 


Industrial  Consciousness.  183 

practiced  statecraft,  enter  the  industrial  field  the 
conditions  of  that  field  are  destined  to  change 
according  to  the  standards  of  the  new  minds.  If 
industry  is  to  become  a form  of  noble  exercise, 
then  the  essential  nobility  of  life  must  appear  in 
that  industry.  All  work  is  not  elevating  or  con- 
ducive to  pleasure.  Again  I quote  from  Bishop 
Spalding : 

“To  know  the  worth  of  work  we  must  con- 
sider, first  of  all,  what  is  its  effect  upon  the  worker. 
If  it  warp,  cripple,  and  degrade  him,  it  is  not  true 
work,  though  he  should  thereby  amass  vast  wealth 
or  gain  great  reputation.  The  work  is  best  which 
best  helps  to  make  men  and  women  wise  and  vir- 
tuous, and  that  which  breeds  vice  is  worst,  is  little 
better  than  idleness,  which  is  evil  because  it  breeds 
vice. 

The  Bishop  then  spoke  of  present  economic 
and  commercial  systems  as  subversive  of  civiliza- 
tion. “They  sacrifice  men  to  money,”  he  said, 
“ wisdom  and  virtue  to  cheap  production  and  the 
amassing  of  capital.”  After  speaking  of  the 
effects  of  competition  on  weaker  concerns  and 
wage-workers,  he  continued:  “On  the  other 

hand,  the  capitalists,  the  captains  in  the  armies 
of  laborers,  are,  under  the  present  system,  driven 
like  the  workmen  themselves.  The  necessity  of 


184  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement. 

ceaseless  vigilance  and  effort  keeps  them  under 
continual  strain.  Like  those  they  employ,  they 
become  parts  of  a machine,  and  therefore,  partial 
and  mechanical  men.  The  sense  of  inner  free- 
dom dies  within  them,  the  source  of  the  purest 
joy  runs  dry,  and  they  are  made  incapable  of 
thinking  great  thoughts  or  walking  in  the  light 
of  high  ideals.  They  are  the  victims  of  their 
own  success,  and  having  great  possessions,  are 
poor  in  themselves.  The  work,  then,  which  we 
are  doing,  and  the  conditions  under  which  we  are 
doing  it,  whether  we  be  rich  or  poor,  are  unfavor- 
able to  the  best  kind  of  lire.,> 

Bishop  Spalding  then  spoke  of  the  wise  use 
of  leisure,  saying  the  theater  might  be  a school 
of  refinement,  but  it  was  not,  and  that  the  club 
and  dinner  habits  were  wrong.  Fewer  hours  of 
toil  would  not  benefit  if  the  leisure  were  spent 
in  saloons. 

But  with  the  absorption  of  the  higher  type  of 
mind  in  industrial  pursuits  such  conditions  are 
destined  to  pass  away.  Industry  will  be  mor- 
alized and  intellectualized.  Already  those  who 
have  acquired  great  wealth  by  means  of  the  pres- 
ent system  are  seeking  to  know  their  duty  in 
regard  to  that  wealth.  Humanize  the  system 
still  further,  and  not  only  the  wealth  will  be  mor- 


Industrial  Consciousness.  185 

alized,  but  the  entire  system  as  well.  But  the 
more  hopeful  sign  of  change  is  taking  place  in 
the  workshops  outside  the  system.  In  these  in- 
dependent workshops  the  elevation  of  work  is 
steadily  taking  place.  If  a great  poet  like  Wil- 
liam Morris  can  find  a more  secure  satisfaction  in 
his  workshop  than  in  his  library,  if  a large-minded 
lawyer  like  J.  Cobden-Sanderson  can  find  a fuller 
exercise  of  his  faculties  in  book-binding  than  in  law- 
practice,  there  must  be  some  exceptional  resources 
in  work  as  yet  quite  unsuspected  by  the  majority  of 
mankind.  Infuse  these  larger  minds  into  indus- 
trialism, and  it  will  follow  that  the  system  will  be 
purged  of  many  of  its  evils,  and  that  work  will 
change  its  character  till  it  yields  the  highest 
pleasure. 

Two  modes  of  economy  are  combining  to  release 
for  the  higher  individual  work  vast  numbers  of 
industrial  agents : the  machine  and  the  “ trust.” 
The  machine  is  a device  for  transforming  poten- 
tial or  unapplied  energy  of  the  universe  into 
practical  energy  with  the  least  possible  interven- 
tion of  the  human  hand.  The  perfect  machine 
is  the  automatic  machine.  Science  and  invention 
promise  the  construction  of  machines  for  certain 
purposes  so  simple  and  efficient  that  the  human 
hand  may  be  wholly  withdrawn  from  their  manip- 


1 86  The  Arts  and  Crafts  Movement . 

ulation.  The  organization  of  industry  and  the 
organization  of  the  organization  effect  a similar 
economy  of  persons.  The  great  organizer,  build- 
ing with  men  as  the  machinist  with  iron,  brings 
into  being  a self-directing,  self-supporting  system. 
Mr.  Carnegie  is  quoted  as  saying  that  if  all  his 
money  and  materials  were  taken  away  from  him, 
he  could  regain  them  all  if  his  organization  were 
left  intact.  With  the  further  removal  of  friction 
by  the  co-ordinating  of  systems  by  the  trust,  the 
work  of  the  world  is  conducted  with  the  least  pos- 
sible expense  of  energy. 

Put  these  facts  together  and  we  have,  first,  the 
general  tendency  on  the  part  of  all  to  be  active  in 
some  sphere,  but  this  is  met  by  the  opposite  ten- 
dency to  eliminate  persons  from  the  organized 
systems  of  production.  It  is  not  likely  that  either 
of  these  tendencies  will  change ; men  and  women 
will  continue  to  love  to  work,  and  the  machine 
and  the  trust  will  but  increase  their  economy. 
There  is  but  the  one  outlet  into  the  field  of  indi- 
vidual work,  the  field  that  affords  the  greatest 
opportunity  for  free  labor,  where  work  is  under- 
taken as  a satisfaction  to  personality  and  as  a 
pleasure. 

The  emancipation  of  labor  is  accomplished  by 
changing  the  character  of  labor.  No  one  desires 


Industrial  Consciousness.  187 

to  be  free  from  work,  but  to  be  free  and  self-di- 
rective in  his  work.  The  machine  in  doing  the 
drudgery  of  the  world  is  undoubtedly  an  instru- 
ment for  the  furthering  of  industrial  liberty. 
Voluntary  co-operative  individualism  is  the  goal 
toward  which  the  whole  industrial  world  is  now 
tending. 


Appendix  I. 

A Proposal  for  a Guild  and  School  of  Handicraft . 

An  address  delivered  at  the  Annual  Meeting  of  the  Industrial  Art  League  at 
the  Auditorium  Hotel,  Chicago,  November  23,  1901. 

James  Russell  Lowell  once  said  that  the  ideal  school 
would  be  a place  where  nothing  useful  should  be  taught. 
The  transcendental  view  of  education  has  long  been 
abandoned  by  educators,  but  the  practical  view  that  the 
ideal  school  would  be  a place  where  nothing  useless 
should  be  taught  has  not  yet  come  into  full  acceptance. 
The  tendency,  however,  to  discard  the  useless  and  to 
develop  the  useful  is  quite  marked  in  recent  years,  and 
it  is  not  impossible  that  the  school  I have  in  mind  to 
describe,  which  is  essentially  a workshop  and  not  simply 
a place  of  instruction,  will  be  the  ultimate  result  of  the 
modern  trend  toward  the  practical.  The  rapid  develop- 
ment of  the  manual  training  school  is  evidence  of  the 
vitality  of  this  movement. 

The  industrial  factor  co-operating  also  to  this  end  is 
known  as  the  Arts  and  Crafts  movement.  As  the  name 
given  to  the  new  industrialism  implies,  its  supporters 
propose  the  association  of  art  and  labor  — in  which 
association,  of  course,  art  is  to  give  up  something  of  its 
special  and  “fine”  character  and  become  practical,  and 

189 


190  Appendix  I. 

labor  is  to  rise  above  its  drudgery  and  become  pleasur- 
able. By  emancipating  and  individualizing  labor  it  tends 
to  become  artistic.  By  subduing  art  and  rendering  it 
useful  it  tends  to  become  real  and  vital.  By  applying 
the  principles  of  both  art  and  labor  to  either  an  artist 
or  workman  the  ideal  craftsman  is  formed — a craftsman 
that  is  a new  kind  of  artist  and  a new  kind  of  work- 
man. Such  a craftsman  satisfies  all  the  life  conditions 
that  economists  like  Ruskin  and  Morris  demand,  and  he 
is  indeed  the  product  of  their  teaching. 

And  now  the  query  rises  whether,  by  combining  the 
new  educational  tendency  and  the  new  industrial  ten- 
dency, a new  sort  of  institution  may  not  be  established, 
which  shall  serve  the  ends  of  the  industrial  common- 
wealth now  forming  in  this  country,  better  than  any 
existing  institution.  Might  it  not  be  possible  to  turn 
the  school  into  an  actual  factory,  and  transform  the 
factory  into  a genuine  school  ? Even  now  some  manual 
training  schools  approximate  the  factory  in  appearance, 
and  some  factories,  with  slight  modification,  could  easily 
be  made  into  ideal  communities,  entirely  self-subsisting, 
in  which  an  individual,  while  “earning  his  living,”  might 
also  be  educated  by  the  self-same  work. 

Work,  when  rightly  understood,  furnishes  every  neces- 
sary means  for  the  development  of  the  highest  human 
life.  As  practiced  at  present,  work  is  more  frequently 
the  curse  it  is  popularly  supposed  to  be  than  the  blessing 
the  moralists  affirm.  If  once  it  can  be  made  pleasur- 
able— pleasurable  because  free,  and  free  because  its 


Guild  and  School  of  Handicraft . 1 9 1 

prosecution  is  in  the  direction  of  a man’s  individual 
life  — this  question  of  the  ages  is  solved. 

As  yet  our  civilization  seems  cumbersome,  and  costly, 
and  ill-regulated.  A philanthropic  proprietor  of  a factory 
devotes  a portion  of  his  surplus  wealth  to  building  and 
endowing  a school.  Now  a little  more  philanthropy  on 
the  part  of  the  proprietor  would  save  the  double  expense 
of  maintaining  both  a factory  and  a school.  If  he  were 
to  realize  in  the  factory  itself  the  full  opportunities  of 
labor,  if  his  men  worked  with  pleasure  upon  the  objects 
they  desired,  inasmuch  as  their  work  afforded  them  the 
fullest  possible  satisfaction,  the  factory  would  then  be  a 
school  — a ground,  that  is,  for  individual  growth  and 
development. 

That  the  factory  will  some  day  be  transformed  in  the 
manner  I suggest  I do  not  doubt.  For  only  a few  years 
has  the  Gospel  of  Wealth  been  preached,  and  the  prin- 
ciple of  trusteeship  put  into  practice  by  the  world’s 
money -holders.  And  already  streams  of  wealth  are 
returning  to  the  people  in  universities  and  art  institutes 
and  libraries.  When,  now,  the  man  of  millions,  con- 
vinced also  of  the  Gospel  of  Labor,  recognizes  the 
opportunities  of  his  factory  as  he  does  now  of  his  wealth, 
the  next  step  in  the  socialization  of  industry  will  be 
taken,  and  the  world  will  be  advanced  by  that  degree. 
But  meanwhile  may  not  a beginning  of  such  socializa- 
tion be  made,  in  the  construction  of  an  ideal  workshop 
and  the  testing  of  its  advantages  ? 

I wish  to  propose,  then,  the  establishment  of  a Guild 


192 


Appendix  I. 

and  School  of  Handicraft.  For  the  purpose  of  this  out- 
line the  practical  difficulties  in  the  way  of  building  such 
an  institution  may  be  ignored.  I conceive  a workshop, 
or  series  of  workshops  and  studios  under  a single  roof, 
owned  and  conducted  by  the  craftsmen  themselves  — so 
owned  that  the  entire  returns  from  the  sale  of  products 
accrue  to  the  workers,  and  so  conducted  that  each  crafts- 
man works  individually  as  a unit,  and  yet  co-operatively 
as  forming  a part  of  a community  or  guild.  In  order 
to  get  the  best  creative  results  from  a workman  it  is 
essential  that  he  work  individually  — that  is,  that  while 
making  goods  for  sale  he  exercise  his  own  talent  for 
designing  and  organizing  materials  according  to  the  con- 
ception and  order  that  are  regnant  in  his  own  mind. 
But  in  order  that  the  advantages  of  centralization  and 
general  organization  may  be  claimed,  it  would  be  neces- 
sary for  the  members  of  the  group  to  work  co-operatively, 
according  to  some  principle  of  government  determined 
by  the  guild.  Co-operative  individualism  is  the  neces- 
sary working  theory  of  a free  workshop. 

This  one  fact  almost  of  itself  determines  the  kind  of 
work  to  be  undertaken,  and  the  character  of  the  products 
that  would  constitute  the  commercial  output  of  the  guild. 
The  field  would  be  that  indicated  by  the  term  Industrial 
Arts,  or  the  more  popular  term,  the  Arts  and  Crafts. 
The  function  of  the  machine  is  clearly  to  do  most  of 
the  mechanical  work  of  the  world,  and  all  its  drudgery. 
The  ideal  machine  is  automatic  ; the  better  and  more 
perfect  the  machine,  the  more  able  is  it  to  dispense  with 


Guild  and  School  of  Handicraft.  193 

an  operator.  For  the  present  at  least  the  machine  is 
calculated  to  do  the  lower  kind  of  work,  and  to  render 
serviceable  to  the  world  the  less  skilful  and  less  intelli- 
gent workmen.  The  higher  the  work,  the  more  of 
intelligent  design  necessary  for  a product,  the  greater  is 
the  need  for  skilled  craftsmen  to  initiate  and  execute  a 
given  design. 

Here,  then,  is  the  opportunity  of  the  artist  and  crafts- 
man. In  the  field  of  the  industrial  arts  the  artist- 
craftsman  will  find  the  fullest  scope  for  his  intelligence 
and  personality.  To  his  surprise  Morris  discovered  that 
the  crafts  offered  him  more  scope  for  expression  than 
literature,  and  Cobden-Sanderson  found  in  bookbinding 
that  which  the  lawyer’s  brief  denied  him. 

The  guild  may  be  large  or  small  according  to  the 
circumstances.  An  experimental  guild  might  be  made 
up  of  fifteen  master-workmen  and  their  necessary  assist- 
ants ; an  architect,  decorator,  sculptor,  wood-worker, 
metal-worker,  potter,  glass-worker,  printer,  illustrator, 
bookbinder,  etcher,  weaver,  embroiderer,  leather-worker, 
and  photographer.  A chemist  and  physicist  would  be 
needed  to  assist  in  solving  the  special  industrial  problems 
connected  with  the  crafts.  One  such  institution,  in  a 
central  city,  equipped  with  the  best  modern  appliances, 
conducted  by  skilled  artisans,  intent  upon  w making 
things,”  to  be  sure,  and  yet  working  primarily  for  the 
pleasure  found  in  the  making  — such  an  institution 
might  fairly  effect  a revolution  in  our  conceptions  and 
methods  of  work,  and  incidentally  benefit  the  world 


194  Appendix  I. 

by  increasing  good  taste  and  raising  the  standard  of 
living. 

But  I have  called  the  workshop  also  a school.  A 
school,  indeed,  would  such  a workshop  be,  not  only  for 
the  master-craftsmen  engaged  in  actual  production,  but 
also  for  their  assistants  and  apprentices,  and  for  the 
limited  number  of  special  students  the  shop  could  ac- 
commodate ; a school,  too,  of  more  genuine  character 
than  the  present  schools  where  learning  is  gained 
abstractly  and  with  no  definite  relation  to  life.  I con- 
ceive of  such  a working  guild  as  being  the  unit  of  the 
social  organization  that  pertains  to  an  industrial  com- 
monwealth. I can  foretell  that  such  a workshop  would 
grow  into  a kind  of  industrial  “ settlement,”  social  in 
its  motive,  co-operative  in  its  method,  complete  and 
self-supporting  in  its  results.  The  system  is  capable  of 
indefinite  ramification  and  expansion,  and  may  indeed 
include  trades  and  industries  other  than  artistic.  In 
fact,  this  proposal  meets  that  of  Mr.  Gilman  in  his 
recent  volume  a Back  to  the  Soil,”  only  I should  say, 
rather,  Back  to  the  Workshop.  In  general  outline,  such 
is  the  Arts  and  Crafts  Institute  that  the  new  — newer 
than  the  new— education  and  industrialism  demand. 


Appendix  II. 

The  Industrial  Art  League . 

(Reprinted  from  The  House  Beautiful,  February,  1902.) 

Industrial  art  is  a name  given  to  a form  of  art  that 
is  grounded  in  life  and  industry,  and  is  distinguished, 
therefore,  from  the  u fine  ” arts,  which  are  leisuristic 
in  their  appeal,  represent  special  status,  and  require 
genius  for  their  development.  The  term  “ arts  and 
crafts  ” has  also  come  into  general  use  as  indicating 
the  same  association  of  art  and  labor.  When  these 
two  elements  — art  and  labor  — come  into  associa- 
tion, each  loses  something  of  its  special  character,  but 
art  gains  in  so  far  as  it  is  vitalized  by  use,  and  labor 
gains  in  that  it  is  refined  by  beauty  and  energized  by 
pleasure. 

The  Industrial  Art  League  was  organized  in  Chicago 
in  1899,  and  was  subsequently  incorporated  as  a non- 
pecuniary  corporation,  with  the  object  of  promoting 
the  industrial  arts.  The  convictions  which  prompted 
the  organization  were  that  art  in  a democracy  is  nat- 
urally industrial,  and  that  the  democratization  of  art 
means  the  return  of  art  to  the  people,  and  the  estab- 
lishment of  life  upon  the  basis  of  art.  The  ultimate 
ground  of  such  an  art  is  pleasure  — the  pleasure  which 


195 


196  Appendix  II. 

springs  from  free  and  skilful  labor.  After  various  formu- 
lations the  cc  object  ” of  the  league  came  to  be  stated  in 
the  articles  of  incorporation  in  the  following  terms: 

The  league  aims:  1.  To  provide  workshops  and 

tools  for  the  use  of  guilds  of  artists  and  craftsmen, 
and  means  for  the  exhibition  and  sale  of  their  pro- 
ducts; 2.  To  give  instruction  in  the  industrial  arts; 

3.  To  establish  industrial  art  libraries  and  museums; 

4.  By  publications  and  other  appropriate  means  to  pro- 
mote the  arts  and  crafts. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  these  four  propositions  involve 
four  functions:  that  of  work,  instruction,  exhibition, 
and  publication;  and  that  these  functions  require  at 
least  three  separate  institutions : workshops  in  which 
manufacture  and  instruction  may  be  carried  on  in  asso- 
ciation, exhibition  and  sales  rooms  where  products  from 
the  workshops  may  be  sold  or  permanently  exhibited, 
and  special  means  of  spreading  and  enforcing  the  doc- 
trine of  work  so  as  to  build  up  a united  community 
of  workers  and  patrons. 

The  Industrial  Art  League  is  now  well  established, 
with  a considerable  membership,  and  a popular  and 
efficient  board  of  trustees,  and  the  first  steps  in  carry- 
ing out  the  original  plans  have  been  taken.  The  officers 
for  the  present  year  are  Frank  O.  Lowden,  president; 
Emil  G.  Hirsch,  vice-president;  Newton  A.  Partridge, 
treasurer;  Oscar  L.  Triggs,  secretary;  and  E.  P.  Rosen- 
thal, manager.  The  executive  committee  includes,  besides 
the  president  and  secretary,  Herbert  S.  Stone,  chairman, 


The  Industrial  Art  League . 197 

Alfred  H.  Granger,  William  R.  Harper,  Marguerite 
W.  Springer,  and  Charles  F.  Browne. 

The  league,  while  not  conducting  any  workshop 
directly,  is  giving  assistance  to  several  groups  of  work- 
ers, and  is  associated  with  a number  of  co-operating 
shops.  Among  these  are  the  Schreiber  shop  in  Long- 
wood,  and  the  w Quisisana  ” shop  at  La  Porte.  It  is  the 
intention  of  the  league  to  build  as  soon  as  possible 
a central  workshop  for  the  accommodation  of  all  the 
crafts  — a place  where  work  may  be  conducted  with 
commercial,  artistic,  and  educational  motives  — which 
shall  also  serve  as  a sort  of  industrial  laboratory  where 
new  materials  and  processes  may  be  experimented  with, 
and  special  invention  encouraged.  So  far  as  practicable, 
the  old  guild  system  will  be  established  in  workshops. 

An  exhibition  and  salesroom  is  located  in  Chicago, 
at  present  at  264  Michigan  Avenue.  Here  in  a suite 
of  four  rooms  are  put  on  sale  selected  products  from 
the  shops  already  mentioned,  and  the  work  also  of  indi- 
viduals. The  Atlan  Ceramic  Club  has  a very  attractive 
permanent  exhibit.  A recent  accession  is  the  Herbert 
A.  Coffeen  collection  of  Indian  goods,  consisting  of  blank- 
ets, baskets,  pottery,  moccasins,  etc.,  all  of  genuine  native 
manufacture,  and  illustrating  one  phase  of  handicraft. 
The  league  does  not  purchase  goods,  but  simply  ex- 
hibits, receiving  a small  percentage  of  sales  to  cover 
expenses. 

Circulars  and  pamphlets,  special  articles  on  indus- 
trial themes  contributed  to  magazines,  and  more  com- 


198  Appendix  II. 

prehensive  studies  in  volume  form  represent  the  activity 
of  the  league  in  respect  to  publication.  A course  of  lec- 
tures on  industrial  and  social  topics  is  conducted  yearly; 
this  year  a course  of  fourteen  lectures  is  given  at 
the  Fine  Arts  Building  in  association  with  the  Illinois 
Chapter  of  the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution. 

The  league  is  also  collecting  books  for  an  Industrial 
Art  Library.  This  library  will  be  built  up  on  three 
lines:  It  will  include:  1.  Books  of  general  sociological 
and  industrial  import;  2.  Books  treating  technically 
of  the  arts  and  crafts;  3.  Books  illustrating  the  his- 
tory of  printing  and  book-making. 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


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